


Like a Bat Out of Hell

by Mc5TenforTwo



Category: Real Person Fiction, Tanz der Vampire - Steinman/Kunze
Genre: Alternate History, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2019-10-08 23:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17395376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mc5TenforTwo/pseuds/Mc5TenforTwo
Summary: This is an AU where the Broadway production ofDance of the Vampiresdid not go down the drain. What would have happened if, responding to the need for a star lead to draw investors, Jim Steinman had looked a little closer to home than Michael Crawford? For Jim and his erstwhile collaborator Meat Loaf, sometimes going all the way is just the start, and the strangest of bedfellows can become the closest of allies. (Previously posted on Tumblr, being further developed here as I move off of that platform.)





	1. 1998: A Visit to Vienna

**Author's Note:**

> I love browsing forums and websites dedicated to alternate history (for instance, I frequently go back to the [Alternative History Travel Guides](http://ahtg.wikifoundry.com/) for a cracking read); everybody loves to think about "what might have been," and the effects such what-ifs would have on the rest of the world. And, let's face it, there is no bigger space for what-ifs than fandom. Speculation about "what might have been" forms a big part of artist appreciation. If I had a dollar for every "what if The Beatles never broke up" discography in existence, for example, I'd be at least moderately wealthy.
> 
> When I was visiting the AlternateHistory.com forums one day, I stumbled across a timeline in which Kurt Cobain didn't die (didn't even become a hardcore drug addict, for that matter) and the effects which this event would have, which would seem irrelevant were it not for the fact that a poster called "Toxic34" proposed a fork from that timeline in which Meat Loaf and Jim Steinman truly collaborated on the _Bat Out of Hell III_ album instead of the _Bat III_ we actually got, which was completed without Jim's active involvement and was surrounded by a hail of lawsuits. He also -- initially rather lightly -- touched on a different fate for _Dance of the Vampires_ , the loose (and that's putting it mildly) American adaptation of _Tanz der Vampire_. As "Toxic34" and I began a spirited discussion in which I nitpicked his _Bat III_ timeline, a thought occurred to me re: the DOTV debacle and I decided to pursue it, starting with a fixed point (or two) in our timeline, and related facts that kick off the hypotheticals to come. (He himself would later borrow some of my ideas as he fleshed out his timeline.) Our version of the result is what follows.
> 
> (This was previously posted on Tumblr, but will be further developed here as I begin to move off of that platform. Switching to AO3 has necessitated some rewriting along the way to go for a more prose style as opposed to the traditional -- for this format -- bare recitation of "alternative facts" [in the proper, non-Trump usage of that term], which required further involvement from "Toxic34," but if you're already familiar with it, the story is more or less the same.)

**Fixed Points in Our Timeline:**

  * In the late Nineties, during the lead-up to rock legend Meat Loaf's release of his album  _Welcome to the Neighbo(u)rhood_  ("u" only included in international packaging), Meat and his long-time collaborator, Jim Steinman, had had tentative discussions (or, as Meat once put it, "two-thousand dollar dinners where Jim orders everything on the menu") about following up their "little sequel that could," the unexpectedly successful  _Bat Out of Hell II_ , with a third album that would complete the saga. As Meat was the artist with which Jim was most associated in the public consciousness, this was a wise move indeed. Ultimately, however, Jim's enthusiasm had as yet only led to ideas -- tempting ideas, but ideas rather than actual product. And so  _Neighbo(u)rhood_ instead had only two songs from Jim's pen, both previously recorded... but the prospect of a  _Bat III_  was still lingering in the air.
  * Part of the reason Jim was distracted from developing _Bat III_ was that he had begun his long-planned return to musical theater in a big way: his collaboration with Andrew Lloyd Webber, _Whistle Down the Wind_ , had a troublesome tryout in Washington, DC, but managed to recover in time for a healthy West End run;  _Tanz der Vampire_ , a collaboration with Oscar-winning director Roman Polanski and renowned European playwright/songwriter Michael Kunze, was beginning its reign of Europe, and Broadway was showing interest; a screen-to-stage transfer of  _Footloose_  incorporated "Holding Out for a Hero," which meant Jim was included in the ensuing Tony Award nomination for Best Score; and Warner Bros. had tapped him to help them compete with Disney's stranglehold on the theater district by scoring an adaptation of the Tim Burton _Batman_.
  * Meat took enough of an interest in Jim's new theater work to record two songs from _Whistle Down the Wind_  (and a third song by Jim not written for the theater, although it was a collaboration with noted theater songwriter Don Black) for a career-spanning greatest hits compilation entitled  _The Very Best of Meat Loaf_ released in 1998, which he followed up with a noteworthy promotional appearance on VH1's  _Storytellers_ and a concert tour that followed the  _Storytellers_ format. The time was ripe for a new collaboration between Meat and Jim to eat up the market if they could ever get their heads together again.



_And so our story begins just before the third bullet point, during the selection process of songs for **The Very Best of Meat Loaf** , as the timelines diverge..._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No thank you, I'm not hungry, but I appreciate the offer."

For Meat Loaf, as for anyone else, be they in first class, business, or coach, airline food doesn't taste very good. The scientific reason is that at high altitude the air is drier and there is low pressure. These combine to alter a person's taste buds, and so food on a plane has fewer flavors. The _food_ isn't actually awful, _we're_ just mixed up. Not that it matters -- plane bathrooms suck, no one wants to use them if they can be avoided, but the food they serve makes it impossible to do so. Better not to eat. (Especially if you're Meat, who has been advised to watch his weight by well-meaning assholes pretty much since he came out of the womb.)

And they never give you enough portion-wise to actually be useful, in either case. Travel amenities are a tiny life: the flight attendant gives you single-serving sugar, single-serving cream, single pat of butter, and a microwave Cordon Bleu hobby kit; the people you meet on each flight are single-serving friends; and then you've arrived, ready to relax at what you think is a nice hotel, only to discover tiny bars of soap, sample-package mouthwash on the bathroom sink, and a shampoo-conditioner combo in the shower. No luxury for a road warrior, even a higher-class road warrior like a platinum-selling rock-and-roller. You almost  _have_ to steal stuff from the maid's cart to feel like you've enjoyed your vacation.

And why was Meat hurtling through the air in a flying metal bird to Vienna? A city he had played maybe twice in his life? All Jimmy's fault. "It's a show you have to experience for yourself! One minute it's funny, the next minute it's serious... if I give you a demo, you won't get the gist!" That certainly seemed to be true. He'd heard what Steinman was writing for  _Batman_ , or at least the material he thought might interest Meat if the show didn't work out, and it wasn't clicking. Too theatrical, better suited for  _Fiddler on the Roof_ or  _Man of La Mancha_. "Then again, you didn't work on it in the studio, and you're not hearing it in context," Meat reproachfully thought to himself. "And the  _Whistle_ stuff was alright when he played it for you." Still, he wasn't looking forward to recording any of it; working with Jimmy meant working with Rink, and working with that united front was painful.

Rink, of course, was Steven Rinkoff, the studio engineer who'd been practically glued to Jim since 1986. As much as people would call Meat Jim's Frankenstein monster, Rink actually looked the part. Slap some makeup on him from the Lon Chaney collection, and you've got a clone. (About as skilled as an assemblage of random parts too; once recording was over, one-take Jake considered his initial mix-down perfect. Meat wasn't the only person who'd ever worked with Jim to grouse that cement made better mixes than Rink.) Meat didn't hate the guy, per se; their working methods just didn't gel. He'd been with Jimmy so long he was content to move at the speed of stop like him, but not Meat.

Flashbacks of the  _Bat II_ sessions ran through his head... recording parts that weren't needed because Jim decided it had to be done, strings and horns throughout entire songs, every possible way to play a guitar solo tested, decisions unnecessarily second- and third-guessed about when and where certain things happened. ("There's supposed to be a horn there." "Jimmy, we took it out. There's so much happening in that section, it needs to breathe a little." "I want to see what it sounds like!" And so they'd automate the parts back in, no easy feat with analog, only for Jim to sit there, take a deep pull on his joint, cloud the room with smoke, and respond, "You know what? You're right. Take them out." And so automation needed to be redone, sometimes taking as long as a week with every new pass. At least now Pro Tools was widespread enough to make that shit easier, leave the faders open and just un-mute what you want to put back in.) If he was being a stickler, then came the endless mixes: lead vocals up, lead vocals down, backing vocals up and down, horns up and down, strings up and down, drums up and down, guitars up and down, until there were 20 different versions of an 8-minute song and they'd burned through boxes and boxes of tape. And when you look for sanity, for a voice of reason, for someone to tell Jim that they started the session at 10 AM, that Jim had woken up at 7 PM and not gotten there until 8 or 9 and not started until 10 and not picked which song to focus on until 11, and that it was unreasonable to insist everyone stay until 9 or 10 AM the next morning, what does Rink say? "What's that? You want the guitar to sound like a Harley-Davidson morphing into a gargoyle-like beast who's mad at his parents? YOU GOT IT, BOSS!"

Another pained thought crossed Meat's mind: "What if he calls Todd?" He shuddered at the prospect of getting Todd Rundgren involved. Ah yes, the wizard, the true star. Meat would always be grateful for what Todd did for him on  _Bat_ , he had no animosity to Todd, but he could get very abusive in a work situation and Meat had no desire to be around it. He still remembered the time he ever dared to make an arrangement suggestion on the first album.

_Working with someone as big as Mr. "Hello It's Me" himself was intimidating; Meat was doing his best to soak it in and learn, but he often felt it was easier for everybody if he just stayed in the corner until it was time to record. But finally they were at an impasse, and Meat thought he had a solution. He got up the nerve and went over to Todd and Jim. "Uh... fellas?" Todd turned to look at him as though he was a studio employee who'd wandered into the room on some unimportant task. In a tough acerbic tone, he replied, "Yes? What do you want?" Already, Meat could feel himself withering, but he'd come this far. "Well... I was just thinking, y'know... this part here? You could do it like Motown, y'know? R &B?" This elicited a dramatic eye-roll and an even more dramatic sigh heaved as though Todd were a dragon bellowing smoke. "Yes, we could. That would be wrong, though, if we did. So why don't you go back to the corner and let us make your record?"_

Back then, the words cut deep enough that Meat had actually attempted suicide that night. Later, of course, Meat learned to deal with this behavior in typical Texan fashion. When he went to Rundgren's house to do background vocals for  _Bat II_ , and Todd was in one of his foul moods, he had the presence of mind to holler "Screw you!" and leave. He had certainly gained that from therapy: if someone wanted to be the worst human being possible, he didn't have to tolerate it. All the same, Jim was really good at tossing cats in among the pigeons. He wouldn't put it past him to bring Todd in on this. Maybe if he got lucky, he could convince him to keep it to Kasim... at least Kasim Sulton, Todd's bassist and Meat's frequent sideman (especially on Jim-related projects), could capture that sound without being an ornery old cuss.

Finally, Meat summoned the strength to abandon these thoughts. Eight and a half hours of sheer boredom on a plane was enough to put anyone in a dark place, but thankfully the flight from New York to Vienna had a stop in Dubai. He could call Leslie and the girls long distance (and groan about the charges later when he paid the phone bill, but life ain't perfect, and they were all his rock and support), maybe find some decent food, use some airport Internet to keep up with his eight teams on Prodigy Baseball Manager (another charge, fantastic), and then be rejuvenated enough to endure another six to twelve hours to Vienna. Touch ground, get a cab, find his hotel, and sink into a deep sleep, pronto. Then off to see this show of Jimmy's... what was it called?  _Dances With Vampires_?

* * * * * * * *

Austria is a big breakfast country. If you like bread-rolls, butter, coffee, a few varieties of muesli, some cold cuts (ham, smoked bacon, cut sausage), boiled egg, cake and pastries, jam, and orange juice, then boy, have they got a spread for you. After that whirlwind flight and a dreamless sleep, it hit the spot for Meat the next morning, even though he knew he'd be paying for it later that night. As of the last call, Pearl and Amanda were fine; Pearl had been helping her mom go over the set-list for the tour (there were too many hits to count, knowing what to drop and what not to drop was no small feat, and Meat, perfectionist that he was, would no doubt change it three more times once he got home), and Amanda was still auditioning around town. "I'll get you somethin' on  _Crazy In Alabama_ , that's the next one I'm doing." "Dad, I appreciate it, but..." "Don't you 'but' me, young lady! My little girl wants to act, I'll help!" "It's just that... well, I'm not ungrateful, I just wanna stand on my own two feet, y'know?" He couldn't help but admire that about her. Leslie had admonished him about breakfast, and of course he had promised a thousand times he'd cut back the next time. (Well, just a little... bread and butter with jam, a glass of orange juice, and a cup of coffee was technically cutting back, right?)

He leafed lazily through a travel brochure on his nightstand. Vienna, the fabled city of music and culture, certainly wasn't lacking in sights, although Jimmy would be more keyed up about them than he was. He was doing rock opera several nights a week on tour; the Bayreuth Festival would leave him feeling exhausted on the singers' behalf instead of mesmerized by the melody. Besides, the music Steinman wrote for him was more than enough Wagner to suit his appetite, as far as he was concerned. Speaking of songs Jim wrote, he had yet to play the tape of the song that wasn't from  _Whistle_ that he was pitching for the greatest hits album. He hadn't done the lyrics for this one; apparently the guy who wrote "Ben," Michael Jackson's first #1, was responsible. "Well, as long as it's not a touching love song to a rat, I should be okay," Meat chuckled to himself. Into his Walkman the tape went, as he ducked onto the balcony of his room for a quick cigar. Jim's work usually cried out for a ghettoblaster with decent speakers, but given the circumstances, this would have to do.

Typical Wall of Sound so far, heavy piano, some background vocals that sounded like Todd and crew (of course)... then a female's voice. A distinctive, nasal sound. _That son of a bitch..._ "FUCK CELINE!" Meat shouted to the open air, scaring pigeons off a nearby rooftop. Yanking the headphones off, he flung his Walkman into the room. Of course he would, that conniving bastard. "I've got a song for you, Meat, it's perfect, here's a demo by  _her_." He stomped around the room for a while, reliving yet another painful memory of a song Jim had sent him when they began discussing  _Bat II_.

He thought he'd understood its meaning, and he wanted to record it desperately; Jim was nostalgic about working with Meat, likewise he with Jim, and this was the perfect reunion number. Unfortunately, Jim had said "It's All Coming Back to Me Now" was better suited for  _Bat III_ , and he had let it slide. (After all, the trade-off was "I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)," and he couldn't argue with results.) And then he tried to record it for  _Neighborhood_ when _Bat III_ seemed to be indefinitely postponed. He pleaded. Jim said no. He begged. Jim said no. He cajoled. Jim said no. He recorded it to show him how it would sound, and Jim successfully sought an injunction -- a fucking _injunction_ \-- to prevent him from releasing it. "It's a woman's song, Meat, I was playing it to you to show you a sample of the material I'm working on." And, to add insult to injury, Celine Dion broke every record when she released it a year later. So yes, twist the knife, here's a new song and here's Celine already singing it. Why the fuck not.

Some mindful breathing and pacing later, Meat was ready to switch off his personal feelings. Like the singer or not, he had to evaluate the song. He picked up his Walkman and pressed play again, the sound of music filling his ears.

...dammit. When Jimmy was good, he was very good. The arrangement kind of sucked, but they'd play with that anyway. Could it be a duet with Patti? Eh... try it both ways. This wasn't gonna burn up the charts any time soon, but for "new material for a greatest hits album," it was actually great. This could hold its own. He'd send it to Kasim and see what the band could do with it. Good exercise of his skills, now that he'd been promoted to musical director of the Neverland Express. Let's see how Kasim shapes a song.

At that point, Meat glanced at his watch.  _Shit! Leave it to Jimmy to get me tickets for the matinee!_ Barely enough time for a quick shower, a change of clothes, and...

_*knock knock knock*_

"No housekeeping, please!" Meat hollered as he grabbed some jeans and a shirt out of his suitcase. For a moment, he considered how his fellow theatergoers would feel, and then shrugged it off. One American tourist who didn't dress up for an afternoon of entertainment shouldn't break their stride.

"Good, we ain't keepin' the house!" a pair of familiar voices hollered.  _What the... could it be..._ He opened the door, and in walked Kasim, with a cheeky grin, and Patti Russo, the great actress, singer, and comic, infallible timing, willing to go way out on a limb, who'd been his onstage foil since 1993. "What are you two doing here?" Meat asked, with a trace of amusement in his voice but no small amount of confusion. "We're here to see the show," Kasim said. "As if we'd let you go wandering through Europe alone!" added Patti.

"Well, Jimmy paid for my ticket... are you guys all set? I can spot you." "Pay for dinner after the show, and we'll cover our own entry?" Patti bargained. "Done. I gotta hop in the shower, I'll see you guys in a minute." Meat made a beeline for the bathroom, clothes in hand, as Kasim and Patti took seats on the sofa.

"So, what do you know about this thing?" Patti asked Kasim. He picked up the travel brochure and began looking it over as he spoke. "Well, you know Roman Polanski?" "What, you mean like  _Rosemary's Baby_?  _Chinatown_? Yeah." "One of his first movies was this schlock Dracula spoof called _The Fearless Vampire Killers_ , he put it out like twenty years ago. Apparently it was really big here, but it kind of fizzled out when MGM put it out in the U.S. This show is supposed to be a musical of that movie." Patti's face registered unwelcome surprise. "Well, shit, I dunno what to expect now. Is this gonna be like Disney or something? Some vampire pops out and goes 'Boo!' and we have to pretend to laugh?" Kasim smiled wryly. "Rink gave me some clue of what to expect. Apparently, if you take one part _Fiddler on the Roof_ , one part  _Rocky Horror_ , and one part  _Phantom_ , you get this thing." "Yikes. Thanks for the warning." "Hey, even if it sucks, you know how Jim operates. Pay close attention to the music, this could be most of the next album."

They shared a laugh as Meat emerged from the bathroom. "Shall we?" he inquired of them. "Surely," Kasim responded. "Do you know where we're headed?" "Jimmy said it's called the Raimund Theater. Shouldn't be too hard to find this place."

* * * * * * * *

Not knowing a word of German, and struggling to find someone who spoke English well enough to give them directions, Meat, Patti, and Kasim finally made it to the Raimund jam on time for the afternoon show. As in maybe seven minutes to curtain. A poster the size of a billboard hung over the marquee, emblazoned with the title  _Tanz der Vampire_ and a giant pair of fangs. "Ah, dammit, is this in German?" Meat said to himself. "Looks like it," Patti replied. "You chickening out?" "No, no," said Meat. "I just didn't think crowds would come for something that wasn't in English." "In Vienna?" Kasim snorted. "Wait a minute, is that the line for tickets?" Patti pointed to the milling crowd, which indeed seemed to form a surprisingly long line to the box office window. "Huh... well, Jimmy did always wanna make a splash in theater. I guess he has. Let's get in there before someone recognizes us."

Ah, famous last words... already a gentleman in line is stammering, pointing at them, barking excitedly at his wife. No matter what the language, Meat can recognize this behavior at fifty paces. "Schatz, das muss er sein! Es könnte niemand anders sein! Es ist Meat Loaf! MEAT LOAF!" "Spoke too soon, Meat," Kasim chuckled. "See if you can buy 'em off with an autograph so we can get in there." Meat turned on the charm. "Yes, hi, that's me." "Meat Loaf, sir, bitte ein Autogramm für mich und meine Frau! Ein... wie sagt man... an autograph?" "Absolutely!" Then came the typical frantic search for something to sign, before they found an old shopping list in her pocket-book. Their wish for an autograph obliged, they thanked him and returned to the line. A warning sound issued over the tannoy from the lobby. "Meat, the show's about to start, let's go!" Patti hollered to him.

Meat immediately strode over to Patti and Kasim, who were standing with a man in a suit. "You must be Herr Aday," the man said in accented English. "I am Rudi Klausnitzer, I'm the president of Vereinigte Bühnen Wien, we are presenting the show. Herr Steinman told us to expect you. Are these your friends?" "Yes, sir," Meat replied. "This is Patti Russo, she sings with me, and this is my musical director, Kasim Sulton." "Charmed, I am sure. Come, we have special box seats for all three of you." "About the matter of our admission..." Patti began. "Nein! Friends of Herr Aday do not pay at this theater. We are accustomed to an entourage. Herr Steinman always seems to arrive with one. Please, come and enjoy the show!"

* * * * * * * *

As the strains of the powerful overture began, things were off to a rocky start. "It's 'The Storm,'" Kasim whispered to him. Meat nodded gravely, recognizing it all too well from an album that shouldn't have existed. Painful flashes... "The doctors say there's nothing wrong with my throat, it's got to be psychological"... "Jimmy, I got 'em to cheer even though I couldn't fucking sing!"... "Meat, I can't bear for people not to hear these songs. David thinks it's best if  _I_ cut this album. I'll write a whole new one for you, don't worry"... He shook his head, as though to clear his thoughts. _Enough of that. It's the here and now that matters._

The show unfolded, and it was more or less what he'd expected. The music was lush and grand; Steinman always sounded better with a symphony orchestra added to the rock band. The onstage action was suffused with fairly even doses of comedy and live wire eroticism. The synopsis in the programme was also in English, which made things a little easier to follow, even though he couldn't understand a word of the lyrics. It was funny in the right places, surprisingly serious in others. Very black humor. This was connecting with the audience for sure, the way they seemed to be reacting. And connecting with him in unexpected ways... early in the first act, the lead vampire made his entrance down the center aisle through the audience, in full regalia, turning to sing what sounded very like "Original Sin," redone, in a booming baritone voice. Kasim and Patti nudged him from either side. "Yeah, I know," he whispered. At intermission, they inform him this gentleman is Steve Barton. "Wasn't that guy in  _Phantom_ with Michael Crawford and Sarah Brightman?" "I think so," Patti said. "I thought he looked familiar. He blended well with her, and he was a good contrast to the other guy... baritenor, right?" "Yeah." "Well, good for him. It may be in German, but Jim's lyrics fit him like a glove."

Curtain up on Act Two, and Lord if that ain't "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Now it's a duet. "Huh... it kinda works," Meat marvels to himself. A song or two later, the young hero has a nightmare to a pounding beat with more than a few riffs from  _Bat II_ interspersed, and lots of Latin chanting. "This must be that 'Carpe Noctem' number Jimmy really wanted me to hear. Too early to turn that guitar lick around again, but maybe an album or two down the line." Later in the show, Barton has another big solo in the castle graveyard, ruminating on his existential angst. The melody is all too familiar... on  _Bat II_ , it was the most personal and difficult song for him to record. "Meat, he's singing 'Objects'!" Patti stage whispered, loud enough to be heard in Uruguay. Neighboring boxes shushed her, as did Meat. Still, the number fit the moment... sometimes objects in the rear view mirror  _did_ appear closer than they were, even for a creature of the night. Here he'd always thought himself the one person best equipped to sing Jim's lyrics, to find the characters in the songs and tell their stories, and Steve Barton was walking away with _his_ song... and doing a damn fine job of it. Meat was surprised, but then again not, to find himself giving the actor a standing ovation at the number's end.

By the time the show was over, to the strains of a rewrite of "Tonight Is What It Means to Be Young," Meat idly mused to himself: "You know, I could do this part in my sleep. Maybe I will... some day." But for now, he had to pay for a quick bite at the coffee shop, discuss preparations for the tour. So he filed away the experience in a mental drawer for safekeeping.


	2. Transition: Real Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fixed points from our actual timeline are imported here to set up the events that will follow. All of the below, as linked, is actual press coverage of events that actually occurred, and all credit is duly given to original authors as and when possible. The fictional portion of the story-line begins again in Chapter 3.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_"Lawyers for the film director Roman Polanski, who has been working in Europe since fleeing the United States in 1977 to escape after being charged with statutory rape, have been talking with California prosecutors about a deal under which he could return to work in the United States. Now it appears that if such a deal is reached, Mr. Polanski might well land on Broadway._

_In Vienna, Andrew Braunsberg is producing **Dance of the Vampires** , a musical version of Mr. Polanski's 1967 horror spoof, **The Fearless Vampire Killers, or Pardon Me, but Your Teeth Are in My Neck** , with Mr. Polanski directing. The musical, with songs by the rock composer Jim Steinman, is being performed, in German, at the 1,200-seat Raimund Theater there._

_'Our idea has always been to take it to New York,' Mr. Braunsberg said in a telephone interview from Vienna. 'We want to do it with Roman directing.'_

_Mr. Steinman will translate and reshape the German book and lyrics. Producers had initially been uncertain whether to take the show first to New York or wait until after a West End run in London._

_'Now we all feel it's really more of a New York show,' Mr. Braunsberg said. 'Our feeling is New York will be the first port of call.'_

_The timing will depend on when the right theater is available, he said, but producers and Mr. Polanski are hoping for a Broadway opening sometime late in 1998."_

\- Rick Lyman, "Roman Polanski and Broadway," [ **On Stage and Off**](https://www.nytimes.com/1997/10/17/movies/on-stage-and-off.html)[ (column)](https://www.nytimes.com/1997/10/17/movies/on-stage-and-off.html), New York Times, October 17, 1997

* * * * * * * *

_"Roman Polanski may not only return to the United States - he may even land on Broadway. It's been more than 20 years since Polanski went on the lam to Europe rather than face statutory-rape charges in the U._ _S. Now, Austrian producer Andrew Braunsberg says that Polanski's spooky flick **The Fearless Vampire Killers** , which has become a hit musical in Europe, just might make it to the Great White Way by the end of the year - possibly with Polanski directing. 'He adores America, he's in love with it,' Braunsberg tells us. 'He named his new baby Elvis, and he would love to come back and work in the States. He deserves it, and he has suffered terribly because of what happened.' _ _In 1977, the Polish Polanski, certain he couldn't get a fair deal in Los Angeles courts, fled to Europe. Now a ripe 66, he has kept working on flicks like **Frantic**  and **Death and the Maiden**. _ _And, of course, **The Ninth Gate** , a new Satanic thriller starring Johnny Depp that opens in New York next month. Hollywood has long been in Polanski's corner, and many of its power brokers are working behind the scenes to get a deal going with the L._ _A. district attorney's office. Peter Bart, editor of the trade paper Variety and an old friend of Polanski, says the director 'should be given another chance.'_ _He added that 'there's an orchestrated attempt to bring him back, and it's come down to the wire.'_ _Polanski's U._ _S. career, which included two mega-hits - **Rosemary's Baby** and **Chinatown** \- was derailed by wife Sharon Tate's murder by the Manson gang in 1969, and then in 1977 by the statutory-rape charges, which Polanski has steadfastly denied. The woman who accused Polanski of raping her has told interviewers she wouldn't mind his return to America. In the meantime, Bart says Polanski is living 'a wonderful family life' in Paris with his wife, actress Emmanuelle Seigner, and two children."_

\- Joanna Molloy, George Rush, Aly Sujo, "[Polanski May Stage a U.S. Return](https://www.nydailynews.com/archives/gossip/polanski-stage-u-s-return-article-1.864608)," New York Daily News, February 23, 2000

* * * * * * * *

_" **Dance Of The Vampires** (United States version) is working toward a Fall 2001 Broadway arrival. Contrary to a report appearing in a New York paper's gossip column, Roman Polanski will not be directing the U.S. production."_

\- [News & Notes](http://www.jimsteinman.com/news/?start=121), jimsteinman.com, March 12, 2000

* * * * * * * *

_" **Dance Of The Vampires** is scheduled to arrive on Broadway in Fall 2001._

_The show will feature book, music and lyrics by Steinman and he'll also be co-directing."_

\- "[Let The Revels Begin - Vampires Dance on Broadway](http://www.jimsteinman.com/news/?start=101)," News & Notes, jimsteinman.com, October 9, 2000

* * * * * * * *

_"The reading for U.S. producers and investors of **Dance Of The Vampires** is planned for the last week of April in New York. John Caird will co-direct with Jim. David Ives (who wrote the book for the upcoming Warner Bros. Steinman/Ives musical - **Batman** ) is now also involved in **Dance Of The Vampires** as one of the project's librettists."_

\- "Vampires Begin The Dance Toward Broadway" (ibid.), News & Notes, jimsteinman.com (undated, circa 2001)

* * * * * * * *

_"_ _An English language reading of **Dance Of The Vampires** was held April 27th in New York for the show's investors. A workshop production will be staged in mid-May for theater owners. The cast for the reading and workshop is as listed below:_

  * _Steve Barton - Count von Krolock ( **Phantom Of The Opera** )_
  * _Sarah Uriarte Berry - Sarah ( **Les Miserables** )_
  * _Max von Essen - Alfred ( **Jesus Christ Superstar** )_
  * _William Youmans - Professor Abronsius ( **Titanic** )_
  * _Tom Alan Robbins - Chagal ( **The Lion King** )_
  * _Bertilla Baker - Rebecca ( **Titanic** )_
  * _Kate Shindle - Magda ( **Cabaret** \- she is also the former Miss America, 1998)_
  * _Jason Wooten - Herbert ( **Footloose** , also **Starmites 2001** )_
  * _Ken Jennings - Koukol ( **Sweeney Todd** )_



_**Dance Of The Vampires** _

_Book by Jim Steinman, David Ives and John Caird as adapted from the German libretto of Michael Kunze.  
_ _Music and Lyrics by Jim Steinman_

_Directed by Jim Steinman & John Caird_

_Executive Producer is Andrew Braunsberg  
_ _Produced by Elizabeth Williams & Anita Waxman_

_Planned Broadway arrival is early 2002.  
Opening Date and Theater To Be Announced._"

\- "Vampire State Building" (ibid.), News & Notes, jimsteinman.com (undated, circa 2001)

* * * * * * * *

_"Now that the spring theater season is winding down and there's no excitement about the Tonys – news flash: **The Producers** is going to win everything – Broadway is turning its attention to future productions._

_This past week, theater owners and producers shuttled from reading to reading, looking for that next big hit._

_Among the projects they checked out was **Dance of the Vampires** , a new $10 million musical based on the 1967 Roman Polanski movie **The Fearless Vampire Killers**._

_The show, which was given a staged reading Thursday, is already a monster hit in Austria and Germany._

_Broadway producers Elizabeth Williams and Anita Waxman ( **The Real Thing** ) hope to bring it to New York next season._

_Jim Steinman – who wrote Meat Loaf's classic **Bat Out of Hell** album as well as the lyrics for Andrew Lloyd Webber's **Whistle Down the Wind** – is the driving force behind the show. He has written the score and is co-writing the book with playwright David Ives ( **All in the Timing** )._

_He is also co-directing the show with John Caird ( **Jane Eyre** )._

_'Roman directed it in Vienna, but he can't work here because of his legal problems,' Steinman said, referring to Polanski's indictment for statutory rape in the 1970's. 'He may be the first director who can't work over here because of a statutory rape charge.'_

_Steinman says **Dance of the Vampires** is an 'erotic' musical about a teenage girl who must choose between two lovers – an older, aristocratic vampire and a hunky young vampire hunter._

_'It's a big, Wagnerian musical with lots of humor,' Steinman says. 'A lot of it is pure Mel Brooks, and a lot of it is Anne Rice.'_

_The score is all new, except for one song, Steinman's famous 'Total Eclipse of the Heart.'_

_'I couldn't resist using it,' he says of a song that goes, 'Once upon time there was light in my life/But now there's only love in the dark.'_

_'I actually wrote it for another vampire musical that was based on **Nosferatu** , but never got produced.'_

_People who attended the reading say the show is indeed operatic, with plenty of luscious Steinman melodies. But some say the mix of bawdy humor and eroticism still needs fine-tuning. And others were too distracted by the lack of air-conditioning in the rehearsal studio to get a strong fix on the show._

_Steinman told the by-invitation-only crowd that **Dance of the Vampires** is a musical for people 'who think musicals suck.'"_

\- Michael Riedel, "['Vampires': New Musical Blood](https://nypost.com/2001/05/23/vampires-new-musical-blood/)," New York Post, May 23, 2001

* * * * * * * *

_"Jim Steinman's **Dance of the Vampires** is making its way to Broadway - but not without a splattering of bad blood._

_A rift has opened between Steinman, who wrote the songs on Meat Loaf's **Bat Out of Hell** album, and his producers, Anita Waxman and Elizabeth Williams._  
  
_Production sources say Steinman is upset that the producers have been slow to come up with the show's $10 million capitalization. He has also, sources say, had several artistic disagreements with them over the direction of the show._  
  
_Steinman has turned the day-to-day producing responsibilities over to his manager, David Sonenberg, though he is effectively producing the show himself._  
  
_Steinman, who is writing the score and co-writing the book with playwright David Ives, didn't return calls. But Adrian Bryan-Brown, a spokesman for the show, said Steinman 'never came to an agreement with Anita and Elizabeth on producing.'_  
  
_If so, that's news to Williams, who says she and Waxman are still on board as co-producers._  
  
_'There have been some disagreements,' she said yesterday, 'but every show has its bumpy road. This one may be having more bumps than others, but we are fully committed to it.'_  
  
_She said she and Waxman had already spent plenty of money on **Dance of the Vampires** \- including paying for a staged reading two months ago._  
  
_'We are prolific producers and we fully intend to continue our involvement in the show,' Williams said._  
  
_Whether they do or not remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: The muscle on **Dance of the Vampires** is Jim Steinman. _  
  
_'He has the final say on everything,' one source said._  
  
_Allowing a writer to act as his own producer can be as risky as letting an inmate run the asylum. Writer/producers often are unable to make the tough financial and creative decisions that are sometimes called for._  
  
_Andrew Lloyd Webber was his own producer on **Sunset Boulevard** \- and allowed the show's budget to skyrocket. Blake Edwards produced **Victor/Victoria** , which he also wrote and directed, with disastrous results. _  
  
_On the other hand, Mel Brooks is a co-producer of **The Producers** , and that one worked out just fine._  
  
_**Dance of the Vampires** is based on Roman Polanski's1967 movie, **The Fearless Vampire Killers**._  
  
_It tells the story of a beautiful teenage girl forced to choose between two lovers - an older, aristocratic vampire and the young vampire hunter who's out to drive a stake through his rival's heart._  
  
_**Dance of the Vampires** is scheduled to go into rehearsals in December and open in April at the Minskoff Theater."_

\- Michael Riedel, "[Show's Future at Stake](http://www.jimsteinman.com/post1.htm)," New York Post, July 18, 2001

* * * * * * * *

_"Speaking of **Dance of the Vampires** , [Jim] Steinman wants the theater world to know that he is not - repeat, not - producing the show. Earlier this week, I reported that Steinman had removed one set of producers from the show and installed his longtime manager, David Sonenberg, as the lead producer._  
  
_But Steinman insists that Sonenberg is in no way his lackey. 'My most extreme fights are with David,' he said. 'He isn't a 'yes' man. He doesn't even approach being a 'considerate' man. Our relationship is a lot less like Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick in **The Producers**  than it is Bette Davis and Joan Crawford in **Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?** '_

_Steinman added: 'I will fight to the death for something I believe in, but I am in no way the behind-the-scenes producer. I damn well wish I was, because I can't tell you how many things are the opposite of what I want, but I am part of a team.' Steinman also said there was no bad blood between him and the two producers who left the show - Elizabeth Williams and Anita Waxman. 'I enjoyed working with them - they're both terrific ladies,' he said. 'They just couldn't work out a business arrangement with David. But I had nothing to do with that.' Sonenberg is co-producing **Dance of the Vampires** with Andrew Braunsberg, who presented the show in Vienna."_

\- Michael Riedel, [excerpt](http://www.jimsteinman.com/posted.htm) from New York Post, July 20, 2001

* * * * * * * *

_"Based on Roman Polanski's 1967 movie spoof **The Fearless Vampire Killers** , [ **Dance of the Vampires** ] opens April 11 at the Minskoff Theatre._

_...The tuner had its world premiere four years ago in Vienna. Polanski directed that stage version, as well as a later incarnation, which is still running in Stuttgart, Germany._

_Over the years, **Vampires** producer Andrew Braunsberg attempted but failed to bring the director back to the U.S. to stage the musical on Broadway. Polanski fled the United States in 1977 when faced with charges of statutory rape. David Sonenberg, who is producing the show in Gotham with Braunsberg, said those efforts to return Polanski to the States had contributed to the delay of the show's U.S. premiere. Braunsberg also produced Polanski's film version of **Macbeth** in 1971._

_John Caird ( **Jane Eyre** ) and Jim Steinman, composer-lyricist on **Dance of the Vampires** , will helm the Gotham production, which Sonenberg calls 'a new version of the show. It is significantly changed with a view towards a New York audience.'_

_The book is by Michael Kunze and David Ives. Steinman is best known as songwriter on the Meat Loaf album **Bat Out of Hell** , and is currently at work for Warner Bros. on the musical version of **Batman**._

_Braunsberg and Sonenberg, who is Steinman's manager, are making their Broadway debuts as producers with **Dance of the Vampires**. They were reported to be joined on the project with the producing team Anita Waxman and Elizabeth Williams ( **The Music Man** , **The Real Thing** )._

_'I looked to bring them in,' said Sonenberg, 'but we were never able to reach a definitive agreement.' Waxman and Williams did not return phone calls. Sonenberg said the show, capitalized at $10 million, will not have an out-of-town run prior to Broadway. It goes into rehearsals in January, and there will be a long preview sked of approximately six weeks._

_...Sonenberg announced no other principals for the show, but said casting on the show would be complete in about six weeks after further casting sessions in September."_

\- Robert Hofler, [excerpt](http://www.jimsteinman.com/crawford1.htm) from Variety, August 23, 2001

* * * * * * * *

_"Casting for **Dance Of The Vampires** will begin September 4th in New York. Rehearsals are slated to start January 7, 2002. According to current plans, the first preview at Broadway's Minskoff Theater will be on March 5th and the show will officially open a month later on April 11th. At this point, all dates remain tentative."_

\- "Casting Begins and Tentative Opening Dates Announced!", [News & Notes](http://www.jimsteinman.com/news/?start=101), jimsteinman.com (undated, circa summer 2001)


	3. 2001: Caesars Atlantic City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of a two-show run in New Jersey for Meat Loaf and his band, he and Jim Steinman convene to discuss a future album, and end up on a whole different topic: Jim's forthcoming Broadway transfer of _Tanz_. (Content warning: there is a very brief mention of rape in a humorous context. While the author does not find rape humorous in the least, Steinman himself once made this reference in an interview, and it is included in the interest of realistically portraying his mindset.)

What can one say about Caesars Palace? For many, it's a go-to casino in Atlantic City because of its proximity to the outlets, the mall, the indoor area with fake sand, Adirondack chairs and beach view, and the parking waiver/discount for dining over a certain dollar amount. But one has to catch it at the right time, and even then it's fraught with peril. Though the casino is large and gleaming, the lower level casino pit is a nonsmoker's worst nightmare. Look a little closer, and some of the carpeting is excessively worn. It's a huge space and you will get lost, unless you don't mind meandering through long corridors. Very middle-of-the-road. And the food? Negligible at best. Their barbecue joint couldn't even tell the difference between North Carolina and Kansas style. So why was Jim Steinman here instead of somewhere more interesting? Well, much as he hated to admit it, he was here for the same reason he usually met with Meat Loaf: everything had gone to shit, and a reunion was in order to fix things up.

Amazing how a few short years could change everything. 2001 had opened with the closing of  _Whistle Down the Wind_ in the West End; consistently placing in the Top 10 selling shows of the West End and recouping its investment apparently weren't enough to keep it from closing after over two and a half years. There was talk about changing theaters or taking it on tour, but that was just brainstorming at the moment. He did have  _Batman_ to consider, but one minute Warner Bros. was saying they were thrilled with the final script and score they were presented and "green-lighting" it for an opening late next year, and the next the search for directors wasn't going so well, so they stopped treating it as a priority... maybe there'd be a reading in the summer, if that. As for  _Dance of the Vampires_ , better not to even think about it. The whole process was giving him fits. 

Roman was a no-go, and rather than let Jim simply rule the roost and take _his_ pick, the producers had brought in John Caird. He had skills of his own, to be sure, and it was nice not to be shouldering the adaptive work alone, but talent-wise he was no Polanski. And their other moves to attract investment capital, while smart on paper, didn't seem to be drawing dividends.  _The Producers_ was a hit? Okay, so push the script closer to comedy and farther from dark/edgy, maybe bring Ives onto it to make it more like his one-acts. Do a staged reading to show their work _in situ_? Investors and producers weren't exactly chomping at the bit afterwards. And then there was the Waxman/Williams debacle, which he could have done without. There was no chance that his testy justifications and denials of a power grab in the papers read as anything but overly defensive, and now because of the switch in lead producers to his own manager, David Sonenberg, the damage was done; any theater money that  _had_ been interested was thoroughly spooked and running like Tom Hanks in  _Forrest Gump_ , as fast and as far in the other direction as their legs could carry them. Sonenberg felt they could turn things around if they found a star to stick at the center of  _Vampires_ and make it a vehicle, but so far there had been no meaningful results in that regard. No answer from John Travolta, Richard Gere (and after Jim had practically launched his career in the Seventies, casting Gere in some of his early shows!), Placido Domingo, or David Bowie, and the star who actually _was_ interested was... well...

His reverie was broken by the appearance of Meat Loaf. "Jimmy! Glad you could make it!" Meat hollered warmly, with a huge grin. "Hello, Meat," Jim replied, tersely but not without some affection. In the next moment Jim was out of his seat, having been pulled into a giant bear hug, something which he had to come to tolerate from his old friend, even if it always felt slightly like being horrifyingly raped by Moby Dick. After a moment, Jim hugged back... he would only do that for Meat, or -- on rare occasions -- for Meat's wife Leslie.

"So glad to see you!" Meat reiterated. "It'll be just like old times, we'll drink a few beers, get a burger, have some fun." Jim couldn't help rolling his eyes. "Meat, we never _did_ those things. You have a real weird sense of what things were like." "Yeah, because your grasp on reality was always so strong." "Hey! There is a difference between my massaging reality and you blacking out for three years." Meat grunted dismissively in response as he produced a pair of cigars from his pocket. "Are you smoking, Meat? You know you don't have a voice that can stand that sort of thing." "Look, I finished my two-show run, I'm having a cigar hang. Do you want one or not?" Steinman fished in his pocket and pulled out a joint. "Thanks, but I roll my own." "Asshole! Now I'll have to wear this thing to the bone to cover the pot smell." "Gotta work for what you want."

"Let's talk about what _you_ want," Meat said between puffs. "I _want_ to be at Lucas Carton in Paris," Jim replied. "This food sucks." "Oh, don't start this bullshit again, what's wrong with a burger? What would you rather be having?" "Only my two favorite entrees ever! With weed this good, I'll either have lobster in vanilla sauce..." "Gloriously supernal," Meat interjected, affecting a fancy-schmancy mid-Atlantic accent. "...or duck Apicius." "Ancient Roman recipe?" "55 spices, and a glaze the gods would kill for... and probably did."

"Well, you're not in Paris, you're in Atlantic City, so let's talk business. The  _Storytellers_ thing took off like a rocket, and my label wants  _Bat III_ yesterday. I'll forgive you for dumping the album's first single on Celine Dion if you tell me you've written something better." "Meat, for the last time, 'It's All Coming Back to Me Now' was not for you. I sent you a demo to show you the kind of songs I was writing. I wrote that song explicitly as a female song." "Well, I've always heard it as a duet, but that's neither here nor there. You know, it could have just as much power. ...I really want to do it." "Please, no more about what you want to do. You sound just like Michael Crawford."

"Crawford?" Meat's eyebrows rose. "The dude from  _Phantom_?" "Yeah. David wants to put him in  _Vampires_ on Broadway." "You know, I _thought_ I read something in the press about that. Sounds cool to me. He's a good fit for the show, if it's anything like what I remember from Vienna when you made me see it a few years back." "Well, don't hold your breath about seeing it in New York. Nothing's going the way I want it to be." "What's wrong?" Well, he hadn't planned to change track, but shit, if Meat was going to try to convince him to do  _Bat III_ , he'd make him pay. Let Meat endure some belly-aching about _his_ issues. And so Jim poured out all the problems and frustrations that had come his way, including Sonenberg's advice to attract a star.

"And Crawford is the solution?" Meat inquired, after this had gone on for a while. "David seems to think so. Keeps reminding me that he's a towering talent and probably the biggest box-office star in the theater, that _we_ should be begging  _him_. As far as investors might be concerned, it's a license to print money. But I'm not so sure." "Well, have you met with the guy?" "Yeah. Back in July, we met at the Dorchester Hotel." "Is it true what I've heard, that the staff at the Dorchester automatically gets a bonus when you and your entourage check in?" "I order everything on the menu each time, what do _you_ think?" Meat smiled in spite of himself.

"So, you met with him. How'd it go?" "Well, we worked on some songs from the show, that went about like you'd expect, and he was really enthusiastic because his engineer on his Christmas album worked on our recording of the show and played him some of the music, but he wanted to talk character development with John, the director. He wants complete creative control over his role." "I mean, he  _is_ a star, you get what you ask for." "That'd be fine, if he didn't think Krolock was too dark for him." "Krolock?" "The main vampire. He doesn't find the character very interesting, says it wouldn't be too different from the Phantom. He wants to swap it around a bit and bring in humor from a different angle, make it more like  _Dracula: Dead and Loving It_. So at his behest we've been trying to stick five jokes on every page, and he's working on giving him a funny accent."

Meat frowned. "That doesn't sound like the show I saw at all!" "That's why nothing has been signed yet, contrary to what you might have heard. Well, that and the money." "How much is he asking?" "He wants what he's calling a retirement package. It basically amounts to $180,000 a week." Meat whistled. "Shit, where do I sign up for  _that_ paycheck!" "Honestly, I don't know where he thinks it's going to come from. He's got marquee value, but enough for us to make him the highest-paid star in theater? I mean, I've hardly been frugal when it comes to my vision over the years -- if you don't go over the top, you can't see what's on the other side -- but I hear that number and it doesn't sit right. Even David was a little taken aback." "Mr. I'm Good With Numbers hesitated?" "Yes, Mr. Business Sense Personified actually took a minute before he could even respond. And that was before Michael laid out his demands for a three-year contract, a guarantee he would play the part in any film version, and first refusal for London and L.A. productions. So you can see why I'm on edge. If we pick this guy, not only do we have to pay him and give him what he wants, but we're stuck with him for the foreseeable future even if I don't like how it pans out."

"Argue him down to one year, drop the film clause which isn't standard anyway, and get him to take a pay cut, and you should be fine." "What about the creative control, though? How am I supposed to be able to explore what _I_ want to do with the part if he's going to make us stuff it with punchlines and do the script in his Frank Spencer voice?" Meat thought for a second, pulling what he saw in Vienna back out of its drawer in the recesses of his mind... the connection he felt to the show, in spite of not knowing the language... how suited he was to interpret Jim's lyrics... how Krolock largely sang material pulled straight from his catalogue of Jim's work... it's almost as though the part was, consciously or unconsciously, tailor-made for him.

"Well, maybe I could help." "What, are you gonna sit on his gut until I get my way?" "No, Jimmy. If you need a star, why not me?"

Jim had to admit, he didn't see  _that_ coming. His mouth fell open. "You?! But you... you..." He searched for a valid objection, before settling on: "...you haven't done a musical since  _Rocky Horror_!" "I get offers. Right now, they're working up  _Chitty Chitty Bang Bang_ for the stage, and they've offered me the Child Catcher." "...somehow that's even more terrifying."

"Okay, look, I get it. I don't scream romantic lead. I'm way more Max Schreck than Tom Cruise, if we're measuring me by vampire movies. But I know the damn songs, you used everything we ever did." " _We_ did 'Total Eclipse'?" "You wrote it for me first, remember?" "Uh, again, that's not how _I_..." "Not important. I wanna do this." "Meat, coming back to musicals? After  _Fight Club_?" "Hey, singing beats wearing a pair of fake tits." "You could go on to do more; why come back to theater? It'd be a creative retreat, a regression, doing what's expected of you. I'm always pushing you in _un_ -charted directions." "Well, let me put it this way: unlike Crawford, I'm not gonna question your judgment. Or, at least not nearly as much. And we've always come to a compromise when we had disagreements before. Jim, this is your  _dream_ right here. You _always_ wanted to be big on Broadway. Now you're in a spot where you can make it happen. If I'm in a position to help you do that, I'll take it. The album can be done another time."

Jim shook his head in disbelief. This was all too much to take in. Finally, he replied, "Well... and I'm not saying this is a done deal... how soon could you be ready for rehearsals?" "Well, Allen's in talks for me to do Night of the Proms this fall." "That European tour thing with the orchestras?" "Yeah. Kovac wants it; the band want it, they could use the money." "Rehearsals for  _Vampires_ don't start until January if casting goes according to plan... do you mind if I talk over your offer with David?" "Only if you promise you won't take the path of least resistance here." "Well, if your manager doesn't throw any wrench in the works, and my manager doesn't raise any objections, then... I suppose I don't have much to lose. But I'm not saying your Krolock is a done deal! If I can convince _him_ , then we have to figure out how to let _Crawford_ down easy without scaring away money people, which isn't going to be a picnic. Tell Allen what's going on, and hang tight, okay?"

* * * * * * * *

The next morning, settling into bed in his hotel room, Jim perused the [casting notice](http://www.jimsteinman.com/castingcall.htm) for _Vampires_ in _Backstage_ magazine, taking a moment, in spite of all the aggro the show was giving him, to marvel at the creative team that had been settled on thus far:

_"Equity principal auditions will be held for the upcoming Broadway production of **Dance of the Vampires** (Minskoff Theatre) at Bernard Telsey Casting - Eq. Production contract. David Sonenberg, Andrew Braunsberg, prod'rs; Jim Steinman, composer; John Caird, Jim Steinman, dirs.; Daniel Ezralow, choreo.; Michael Reed, music supervisor; Patrick Vaccariello, mus'l dir.; 101 Productions, Ltd., gen'l mgr.; Bernard Telsey Casting, casting dir."_

Patrick had served the Washington tryout of  _Whistle Down the Wind_ very well, even if it didn't lead anywhere from there. Ezralow had frequently collaborated with Julie Taymor, and could bring some interesting new ideas to the picture. Jim had certainly been laying the groundwork in his newest drafts of the script, after all. Then his eye fell on the description of Count von Krolock -- "the seductive, diabolic, dramatic center of the show" -- and he thought again about Meat's crazy offer. Could it make any less sense? Krolock required a _trained_ actor. What could Meat _possibly_ bring to it? He chuckled to himself.

Still, as he reminisced about the original  _Bat Out of Hell_ tour, he admitted the idea _did_ kind of resonate. He reflected on his memories of Meat in those days: the eyes with a wildly varying capacity for expression, sometimes bulging almost as though possessed... the formal dinner wear barely restraining the beast within... his incredible power at drawing raw emotion from each line of the songs... the constant transforming in style of speech and mannerisms, morphing from one persona to the next, often back and forth. Even the trademark red handkerchief now seemed almost fitting, a token of the first time Krolock ever drew blood. And when the score called for "a galvanizing massive baritone," that was certainly where Meat's voice was headed, as sessions for the greatest hits album had proved. (Not pretty. Another fight with Rink, and they'd had to give up on "Is Nothing Sacred" after the preliminaries and let Meat bring in another producer for the vocals. He may be pacing himself far better onstage than he did in the glory days, but even this would fail him eventually; out of necessity, he would one day have to sing in a lower register, to preserve what's left of his voice if nothing else.)

_Huh..._ Compared to before, now the idea made him genuinely grin.


	4. A Phone Call, Post-9/11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starting yet again with a fixed point in our timeline, and marshaling some actual facts to boot, we plunge once more into the depths of alternate history. (Trigger/content warning: 9/11 is incredibly briefly discussed in frank terms.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_"There is another Broadway postponement to report: **Dance of the Vampires** , a musical based on the 1967 Roman Polanski film **The Fearless Vampire Killers** , will not be seen this season._

_Its producer, David Sonenberg, said yesterday that he had decided to push back the show's opening until next fall. The show, originally scheduled for late April, will instead open on Oct. 24 at the Minskoff Theater._

_Mr. Sonenberg said most of the show's creative team, including John Caird, the co-director, was based in London, which caused myriad logistic delays. 'We haven't been able to do anything productive since all this happened,' he said. 'We just realized there was no way to open before the Tony cutoff.'"_

\- Jesse McKinley, excerpt from "Delay for 'Vampires'," [ **On Stage and Off** (column)](https://www.nytimes.com/2001/10/05/movies/on-stage-and-off-pay-cuts-shrink-worry-remains.html), New York Times, October 5, 2001

* * * * * * * *

September 11 hit the entertainment world like it hit everybody else. There was nothing pretty about it. Whatever the later speculation about the source of the terrorist attack might be, it didn't change the fact that a horrifying disaster destroyed two New York landmarks and left a gaping hole in a government building in D.C. 2,800 people died. America was brought to its knees. This event impacted everyone, the tall and the small. Among its ramifications in the entertainment world was the fact that musicals preparing to jump to Broadway were no longer sure of their future, which especially rang true as Meat Loaf perused his edition of the  _New York Times_ three weeks later.

He glanced at the clock. 2:30 in the afternoon. A little early to wake Jim up, but he needed to see how everything was, and Jim would ultimately forgive him, he reasoned. He dialed the house in Connecticut. No answer. Must still be in New York; not a lot of people were coming in and out of the city as it was, even now. Was Jimmy living off Central Park West still? Only one way to find out. Dialing the number he recalled produced the result he sought: a weak, groggy, Staten Island-inflected "Hello?" "Jimmy, I'm glad to hear from ya; it's Meat." "Then you should know better than to dial me at this hour." "Eh, I figured a wellness check was worth the risk. How are you?" "I'm alright, but I'd be better if I was sleeping." "Get over it, Jim." Finally, Meat couldn't hold back his curiosity, asking the question he'd asked of everyone else he called: "...were you in town when it happened?"

Immediately it felt as though something in the air had changed. "Yeah, I was... I'd been working till late on the script (it's still a work in progress, but we're pretty near now what we want), and David woke me up with a phone call. 'Are you watching?' It was eight in the morning, so obviously I was getting ready for bed. I turned the TV on... since then, the city ain't the same. I went out for a walk the third night after." "What was it like?" "I walked seven blocks from Fifth Avenue to Sixth, four blocks across from 57th and 54th Streets. I passed maybe... three people? Bumped into one guy, as a matter of fact; we all had our heads down..."

A pause. "Did you go to... y'know... where it happened?" "I went as far as the public were allowed; I just wanted to stand with the others. My friend's husband was there. He was pretty shaken up... he was in town for a meeting he was chairing with Risk Waters Group -- it's some kind of financial publication -- and they were booked for the restaurant at the top. He was late, lucky for him. The other forty went up in smoke." Another pregnant pause. Meat could hear Jim taking a drag of his joint. He was about to respond when Jim spoke again: "Last night I went through Grand Central and saw all these photographs, still, of people missing. On one photo it had 'Found.' I know it doesn't take a lot for me to do it, but I actually started crying."

Meat sat silently for a moment, taking it all in. There was no seamless segue into talking shop. Better to just rip the Band-Aid off. "So... what's happening with the show?" "I assume you read the paper?" "Yeah, I just wanted to check with you." "David thought it would be prudent under the present circumstances. Can't argue with him, really; even as warped as I am, I know bringing a musical comedy into town about dead people -- where the bad guys win, no less -- would get us crucified. Doesn't matter how funny, it'd be considered poor taste." "What have you got in mind as far as the future?" "I dunno. I think everyone will be supportive of whatever's best for the show and the community. We put the word out that we'll be back in the fall, but it was on shaky ground to begin with, so... What about you?" "I'm still doing Night of the Proms, yeah. Starts at the end of the month, and I'll be doing that till just before Christmas. Can't really think of anything else to do except work; it's the only way I know how to raise some spirits. I kinda feel like, y'know, if I do it, I'll show people in Europe that we're strong. That we can get through this." "That's good. That's important."

There was another moment of silence. "Listen, Meat, about you being in the show..." "Yeah," Meat responded, relieved not to be the one to bring it up. "Should I clear my schedule for next fall?" "I'll be honest, I didn't even get a chance to talk with David about it before this happened. Now that it's postponed, I'm not even considering it an immediate priority." "Jimmy, he's got to know! We can't just spring this on him when it gets going again." "Look, just go do your tour. We'll strategize when you get back, I promise. Remember, you're not the only moving part in this equation. If I do go up to bat for you, I gotta be prepared to handle the Crawford thing."

_Shit. That's right. Michael Crawford is up for this part too._  Meat sighed in frustration.  _And Jimmy sounds like he's on the ropes. If it means he won't have to fight Sonenberg to get his dream, he'll take this guy. But I can't force the issue. If I throw down the gauntlet and say "it's him or me," or make some kind of ultimatum, Jimmy's used to that, and he'd walk away. How do I play this...?_

As it turned out, Meat played it as he normally did: starting with a thought, and following it wherever it led. "Well, can I at least give you some advice?" "On what?" "Handling Crawford. I'm an actor, I know how actors think." "You mean they  _think now_?" "Shut up, Jimmy. Actors are driven by different things, different motivations, they have a drive we don't understand." "I know  _I_ don't." "Are you gonna listen, or what?" "Skip to the advice, that'd help." "We already know he doesn't want to play a part that's essentially the Phantom with more prominent teeth. Listen carefully to what he wants to do with the role. I'm not a betting man, of course, but if I had to bet, I'd say there's another solution buried in there. React accordingly when you recognize it, and offer it." "Meat, can I ask you something?" "Sure." "When exactly did you become Tony fuckin' Robbins? Are you my shrink, all of a sudden?" "Hey, I'm capable of wisdom sometimes! See if there's another solution, that's all I'm saying."

Meat chuckled to himself as he thought of a positive note to end the conversation on. Half-jokingly, he tossed down the line, "You know, maybe we could even be co-stars or something." Jim couldn't help laughing at that notion. "I'll, uh... I'll keep that in mind, Meat."


	5. Early December 2001: An Emailed Progress Report and a Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David Sonenberg sends an email, and the team meet with Michael Crawford, with unexpected results.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 **From** : Jim Steinman <xxxxxxxxxx@xxx.xxx>  
**Date** : Wed, 12 Dec 2001 12:30 PM (EST)  
**To** : Michael Aday <xxxxxx@xxxxxxxxx.xxx>  
**Subject** : FW: DANCE OF THE VAMPIRES - The Most Successful Musical Of 2001

Meat, doesnt look like he is going for it. He said we needed a star -- I say I got him one who would come thru for us IN A HEARTBEAT. Reminded him of our time in the trenches hustling BAT all over town (remember Clive Davis, or as u called him "FUCK YOU CLIVE!!!!!" LOL) when all hed ever been was counsel for CABARET and GODSPELL and HAIR (oh my), how successful BAT 1&2 were re sales and airplay... four #1 singles (BAT1), #1 spot in 38 countries and biggest selling rock single ever (BAT2)... you pull crowds, ESPECIALLY when singing MY songs... but he didnt want to hear it!!!! Am thinking, like WHISTLE, we do celeb album in addition to cast rec (Jimmy Iovine wants both for Interscope).... David speaking to BONO, BETTE MIDLER, MARY J. BLIGE, and your old pal CELINE (lol and not lol). Worse comes to worse, whoever loses goes on the album instead?? (We did have Elaine Paige and Michael Ball on WHISTLE... shoving MC there wouldnt be out of char)

Will keep you posted.. if I stay awake at this ungodly hour..

Jim

 

Begin forwarded message:

From **:**  David Sonenberg <xxxxxx@xxx.xxx>  
Date: Wed, 12 Dec 2001 11:50 AM (EST)  
To: Andrew Braunsberg <xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx@xxxxxxx.xxx>; John Caird <xxxxxxxxxxx@xxxxx.xxx>; Jacqueline Dillon <xxxxxxxxxxxx@xxx.xxx>; Daniel Ezralow <xxxx@xxxxxxxxxxxx.xxx>; David Ives <xxxxxxxx@xxx.xxx>; Barry Keating <xxxxxxxxx@xxx.xxx>; Don Ketteler <xxxxxxx@xxx.xxx>; Michael Kunze <xxxxxxxxxxxx@xxxxxxxxxxxx.xxxx>; Michael Reed <xxxxxx@xxx.xxx>; Steven Rinkoff <xxxxxx@xxx.xxx>; Howard Siegel <xxxxxxx@xxxxxxxxxxxx.xxx>; Jim Steinman <xxxxxxxxxx@xxx.xxx>; Charles Vasoll <xxxxxxx@xxxxxxx.xxx>  
Subject: DANCE OF THE VAMPIRES - The Most Successful Musical Of 2001

Hello, everyone!

JD just posted [this](http://www.jimsteinman.com/germanvamps1.htm) to the website and I thought we should all share in the victory. FYI (and congratulations!): DotV has been seen by more than 600,000 visitors this year and is the most successful German musical of 2001; a trade mag named DotV distinguished recipient of 2001 Reader's Choice Award for "Favorite Long-Running Musical"; today will mark the show's one-millionth visitor; show is doing so well they plan to keep it in Stuttgart until at least 2004.

I remember when we were first approached with this project. I was distinctly unimpressed; but, fortunately, I keep my creative opinions to myself, knowing that whatever talents I have clearly lie elsewhere!

As you all know, we decided that the show would not open in April 2002 as had been initially planned. The tragic events of September 11, 2001 made it necessary to reschedule. However, though we are momentarily down, we are not out: JD has established a temporary webpage at http://www.danceofthevampires.com. There is a "news only" list fans can subscribe to. Those who join will receive automatic alerts (that will include website & show updates plus special information) direct to their e-mailbox, and we are heavily promoting the Dance Of The Vampires Information Hotline E-mail List in fan spaces.

Andrew feels we may have jumped the gun in wording the website so definitively, but negotiations with Mort Viner have been going well enough so far -- as Howard can attest -- that we feel we are close to a deal. At present, it seems that Michael Crawford will return to Broadway for the first time since his Tony Award®-winning performance in THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA in our show!

I know there's been some dissension in the ranks about this, but need I remind you: the days when shows succeed or fail on their own merit are long gone, and star talent is almost always attached or kept in mind for new material. Though other suggestions have been made (i.e. ML), may I remind some of us that we are not so down on our luck that we must resort to stunt casting. We are NOT in J/H (Bach, Hasselhoff) or PHANTOM (Stanley) territory.

  * MR, Rink -- we are setting up another meeting with MC in the city on Friday and may want to have some music prepared should he wish to run some numbers afterward.
  * Barry, Charles, Don -- do what is necessary to get Jim to that meeting on time.
  * Jim -- PLEASE consider something other than your usual black leather head to toe. It's off-putting. Look pretty and do as little as possible.



(David, Daniel, John, Herr K -- your presence not necessary at this meeting, just keeping you in the loop.) 

all the best.

das

* * * * * * * *

Ah, Sardi's... the choice of the theatrical establishment. Many an opening night celebration was had there in days of yore, but as far as Jim Steinman was concerned, it was definitely living off its previous laurels. Dingy carpets and a general atmosphere that didn't look like it had been updated in 40 years, the kitchen didn't offer  _anything_ without butter or cheese, the waiters were incredibly inattentive and completely unfamiliar with the menu (their current kid had been running to the kitchen for an answer to every single question he'd asked so far), and for $40 a plate, you'd think every single component of the meal didn't need to be pre-made. The pork chop was very well done, but the vegetables tasted like they'd been microwaved and sent to the table without seasoning; their "salad" was no more than four small pieces of romaine, a few walnuts, and a drizzle of dressing; the "smoked salmon" (at $19) was a few slices on a hunk of lettuce, with a side of four pieces of cheap rye bread, onions, and capers; and the vodka martini seemed to have been made without measuring -- they dumped a splash of vermouth and almost an entire highball of vodka and shook it. Full of ice chips and so much vodka that it burned to drink. Maybe it was tradition, but this was why Jim eschewed tradition every chance he got. The attractive atmosphere and allure of past A-list customers was not fooling him, especially as a distraction from his current meeting.

He remembered Dave's neck veins popping out when he'd dared suggest that Meat Loaf was a viable option for Krolock, his smile vanishing into a disconcerted grimace. Much like the expression he had now, staring at his "Irish coffee" which was little more than a hastily poured couple ounces of Jameson and a sugar cube on a spoon sitting in a glass, with a pot of coffee and whipped cream spooned on top from an uncovered bowl. Apart from the horrid mixture, it couldn't be sanitary. Horrid mixture... now there was an apt description for the dynamic between Sonenberg and Meat. He remembered all too well what happened back in 1981, when David cut the apron strings and left Meat for dead. True, he helped engineer Meat and Jim’s reunion for _Bat II_ , but he didn’t do that out of the goodness of his heart. Constantly he had encouraged Jim to seek other fruit and be successful elsewhere; he had to admit, for the most part it had paid off. His work with people like Air Supply, Barbra Streisand, Barry Manilow, Bonnie Tyler, and Celine Dion didn't lie. Introductions to new artists like Tina Arena and Boyzone had worked out about that well. And when he occasionally dipped below the radar, like with The Sisters of Mercy or when the Pandora's Box album flopped hard back in '89 (the only reason the Loaf and Steinman reunion occurred to begin with, at least to hear David tell it), it was never for very long. Still, there were times when he didn't wonder if David needed him more than he needed David... a lot of acts passed through his roster for the length of a season, having an initial burst of success until their meteoric rise to the heavens slowed considerably (Joan Osborne, The Spin Doctors, The Fugees, and Wyclef Jean came to mind). For all of David's thinking ahead and not backward, Jim seemed, at least in  _his_ mind, to be doing a lot better than most of them, and he himself was fairly unknown by comparison.

Sonenberg shook his head. "Jim, I can't understand it... what the hell possessed you to  _offer him the second banana_?!" "Look, if I had to hear one more suggestion for a sex joke that was about as subtle as a cockroach on a white rug, I was gonna die. You weren't feeling it either, admit it! That's not Krolock! And that fucking 'Continental' accent... he sounded like Bela Lugosi's Cockney cousin, who's somehow also Italian, after inhaling a tank of helium. For Christ's sake, David, 'easier to sing the lyrics' my _ass_. I couldn't  _understand_ the lyrics!" "I  _liked_ his ideas for dialogue." "You like anything that'll close the deal, don't give me that. It all played out exactly like Meat told me it would."

There was that vein of David's again. He should really get that checked. "Oh, so you're taking advice from the fat slob who can't sing? That's cute. Real cute." "Hey, I did it for  _Bat II_ , I worked my ass off with him and taught him those songs until they fit like a skin, just like the good ole days. You think I can't do it again?" "Can you do it again? I don't think we have nearly enough  _time_. That album took a solid three or four years, Jim! God _damn_ it! This was a done deal, and you did this just as we were going to slide into home plate!" Both men ceased arguing as they heard the sound of a throat clearing.

It was their waiter again. "Uh, gentlemen... anything else?" Jim vented his full frustration at this kid: "Your restaurant's bad, and you should  _feel_ bad! If the chef doesn't fuck it up, get me the caprese salad with bucatini and meatball pasta, and a wet tangueray martini, with more than a rinse of vermouth if you please!" Jerking a thumb in Sonenberg's direction, he spat out, "Charge it to this asshole." _There goes Jim,_ David thought to himself, _with that legendary bedside manner._ One wondered how many more collaborators would withstand this verbal abuse. He was certainly getting tired of it himself. Nonetheless, he pasted a smile on his face. "That's right, put it on my bill. Thank you for your service." The waiter hurried away in some distress. "You'd better not tip him. He went nearly a half hour at a time without checking our table. Our glasses have been sitting here empty for ages." "Stop trying to change the subject, Jim. Why? Why did you offer him the professor?"

Jim sighed quite heavily, running his fingers through his silvery hair. Why  _did_ he do that? Because he was tired of Mort -- and Michael's phalanx of assistants -- braying and laughing at every crude punchline like a bunch of sycophantic yes-men? Because Crawford spent a half-hour over-explaining about Andrew Lloyd Webber wanting Antonio Banderas to be in the  _Phantom_ movie instead of him, as if it justified his absurd request for a guarantee on the  _Vampires_ film? It was certainly why he'd been over at the piano in the studio, idly giving the ivories a tickling. Maybe the whole thing just reminded him of the increasingly dizzying pace of Abronsius' aria-turned-G&S-patter-song around the middle of Act I. Either way, he'd begun playing "Logic," which drew Michael to the piano.

_"...HE'S -- GOOD -- AND -- TRUE!" Jim finished with a flourish, having inadvertently begun singing along as he played._

_"That was a very good tune, Jim," Crawford said affably. "A bit twee, but marvelous. Who sings this in the show? I'm sorry, I **should** know, I've seen it in Vienna a few times, but I'm drawing a blank. Is that one of mine?" "Not one of yours, no," Jim replied, with a little more of a curt edge than he had intended. "This is the number for the bumbling vampire hunter, Abronsius. The fella who looked like Einstein?" _

_Recognition dawned on Michael as he nodded. "You know, come to think of it, this role is kind of more like what you're interested in doing with Krolock; there's some gravitas in there, sure, but he's the comic centerpiece of the show, he considers himself very wise and astute but doesn't see the forest for the trees. He's got a funny accent and a high note that really shows off his voice." "How much stage time does the character have?" "Oh, plenty!" Jim replied. (In retrospect, he now realized, Crawford was actually doing the math as to how much of this character he would demand cut down to avoid drawing attention from his Krolock.)_

_Jim's enthusiasm grew as he continued to speak with a confident tone; when he was on a roll, everybody knew it. "You know, we've also been talking to Meat Loaf about Krolock? In all honesty, I don't see the point of all this, overhauling Krolock so much, when the part for you already exists in the show. I mean, think about it. You're worried about being compared to the Phantom, right? This is **light years** away from that. You want to shatter the Gothic typecasting? Nobody would expect 'Frank Spencer Does Transylvania' in a million years! But if you try to send up the Phantom, make comedic references and all that, and it  **doesn't** work, the critics will be out for us all, especially you. It could become the millstone around the production's neck. That's a **big** risk."_

_It was only then he noticed the rest of the room looking at him with nervous anticipation, and Sonenberg sweating bullets at Jim's having gone radically off-script. He had thought out this approach more carefully than threading a needle. And Jim had undermined him in front of a room full of people. Uh-oh._

_Looking at everyone coolly, Crawford was the first to speak. "Well, has everyone eaten yet today? I'd say it's about time for lunch. Can you all step out please? I need to think this over."_

That had been four hours ago.

"Where do I begin?" Sonenberg lectured. "First of all, how bad of form is it to let on that you're talking to other talent when things are going  _well_? You pull out that ace if they  _don't_ want to sign. Secondly, I thought we discussed this: Meat Loaf is not the star power we need. Let's suspend disbelief and say we sign him. Okay. How well do you think he's gonna do with eight shows a week? I'll tell ya how well he's gonna do: the first couple performances will be great, then the pressure will wear on him and he'll go nuts and start licking the walls, so we feed to the press that he's got a cold and put in the understudy instead, which begins the wave of refund requests. He misses x amount of shows, comes back, sounds like absolute shit, and then has the nerve to tell everybody that they don't understand how hard performing is and 'fuck off!' He's gonna flake out again, just like '81. We'll have to fire him anyway. Why wait and waste our time? This was the _perfect_ set-up, and you came in like a wrecking ball!"

"Look, past behavior is not a guarantee. I'm gonna work with him in rehearsal. I'll keep him in line. It's my neck on the block, too, y'know. Besides, why settle for one star when we can have two?" "What do you mean? I don't follow." "Let's say it wasn't Meat, say it was some other B-list, C-list star. The investors would want insurance anyway, wouldn't they? Abronsius would need to be evenly matched. It can't just be any old Broadway hand. Crawford, or a similar name, as a co-star shores up the box office potential. It  _could_ work." "That makes sense. It  _could_ work. On the other hand, it  _might not_! We practically had the signed contract  _in our hands_!"

The waiter returned to the table. "Here you are, sir... caprese salad, and bucatini and meatball pasta." Jim stared at his plate. He didn't consider a small tomato sliced into three pieces with two pieces of cheese and a bit of balsamic a caprese salad, so he turned his attention to the pasta. He tasted some of the sauce and a fork full of meatball, and spat it out immediately. "What the hell is this dry, bland excuse for a meatball?! And this sauce, it's practically inedible! What did you do, go down to the bodega, buy a jar of marinara, and add sugar? And how can you even charge $18 for that so-called salad? That's a dollar fifty worth of food, max. Get this the fuck away from me." The poor kid, withering under pressure, took off with the plate.

David's cell phone began to ring. He read the number display on the screen. "Will you quit belly-aching about your meal, Crawford's manager is on the phone!" Jim made a sour face. David answered. "Hello, Mort? Yeah, hi, listen I want to... what's that?... he does? Okay, we'll be at your office in ten minutes." He hung up. "He wants to see us. He said Michael's made a decision." "How did he sound?" "He kept his voice even. I couldn't read any emotion." "Shit. Pay the bill,  _no fucking tip_ , and let's get out of here."

After signaling for the check, David glanced at the receipt when it was brought to the table. _$95?! You're damn right, no fucking tip._

* * * * * * * *

Ten minutes later, they were across the wide glass table from Mort and Michael at Mort's office. A picture of Michael in costume from his film role in  _Hello, Dolly!_ was on the wall; Mort had been his sole representation since that delightful project in 1968. "Thank you for coming on such short notice, gentlemen," said Viner. He paused to clear his throat before continuing. "As I said on the phone, Michael has thought over your proposal, and he's made a decision about his involvement in  _Vampires_." "So what do you think, Mr. Crawford?" Sonenberg queried in an obsequious tone.

Crawford replied, fiddling with a pen as he spoke: "The reason I initially wanted to do this project was that Krolock's music was a challenge. It's different than anything I've done before, more of a rock-type base than I've ever sung, more gritty. That would require a lot of very hard work; I'd have to vocalize two or three hours a day to strengthen up my cords for it. Abronsius, by contrast, is in my wheelhouse. The Gilbert & Sullivan sound is a little passe, but I know the form. I got my _start_ in opera after all, with Benjamin Britten no less."

Jim's spirits sank. It sounded like he was about to say Krolock or no dice. "...But the part _is_ a good deal funnier, and you're quite right, Jim, no one's gonna be expecting this. If you _are_ going to hire another star for the part of Krolock, Abronsius shouldn't be a mere second fiddle."

Both men looked at him nervously, wondering if he was saying what they  _thought_ he was about to say. "We'll have to dot some i's, cross some t's, but you can count me in."


	6. Mid-December 2001: Reading the Writing (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meat Loaf receives the script... er... scripts... and he's got questions. Turns out, so does Michael Kunze. Is there room for compromise? (Note: Funnily enough, this wound up being too long to contain in one chapter, so this will be merely the first part of this development in the story.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meat Loaf looked out his window. Despite the morning's foggy rain, the afternoon was clearing. Jim had called to say the script was being sent by messenger. Apparently he'd caught up with the 21st century enough to have an email address, but not enough to send files as attachments. He didn't want whoever was responsible for the delivery to get caught in the weather. Jim had explained what the changes were, but in his usual fashion that revealed as little as possible.

_"This is the most current draft to date. It still needs more work. We had to keep the law of thermodramatics in mind." "Thermo-what?" "Thermodramatics: to get more audience, turn up the heat." "Meaning?" "Follow the typical Hollywood rules: go back to the pulps, use a touch of wit, do the Lucas-Spielberg scrub, and presto! The land of megabucks." "Just as long as it's not a collection of the lame jokes you were writing for Crawford." "Well, there **is** some humor in it." "Jimmy..." "It's the times! Euro-pop operas aren't the thing anymore. Webber's work isn't doing so hot outside of his home turf, and the  **Les Mis** guys just flamed out with  **Martin Guerre**. Meanwhile, broad comedy is coming back. You know how big  **The Producers** is right now? It's not super different from what you saw; David just thought since it was going gangbusters for them, it wouldn't hurt us to reconfigure the show to be more like that. That's part of why we brought David Ives in -- it's not like he was just a writer we happened to have on hand for **Batman**. Comic plays are his forte. Besides, it needed to be shorter, and he does that, too -- he's done all the concert adaptations for the Encores! series."_

That worried Meat especially. Not only was Jim taking creative advice from a guy smart enough to admit in writing that there was a reason he was the suit, but he had to try to be funny. Steinman tended to play the comedian, and he could be funny one-on-one, but it didn't always play so well live. He cringed as he remembered choosing the best version of the "Wasted Youth" speech for  _Live Around the World_ ; he managed to miss the corny ad-lib about the narrator's high school principal telling him he'd be a serial killer if he didn't have such a short attention span, but he couldn't find a clean copy without the shitty punchline about the junior varsity cheerleader that Jim always threw in. Naturally, he wondered how well Jim's wackiness would translate to the page, and if it would be at all tempered by Ives' influence.

At last, the doorbell rang. "Leslie, get the door!" Meat hollered. It rang again. "Leslie!" When no answer came, cold reality set in as he remembered.  _She's gone. And she's not coming back._ Shaking away that thought, he answered the door.

"Package for Mr. Ad-- HOLY SHIT YOU'RE MEAT LOAF." Meat nodded, on autopilot, as the courier, clearly a fan, continued to have his "moment." He wondered if it was even legal for messenger services to be hiring them this young. This kid was spotted with acne, and it sounded like his voice was still breaking. Once the hero-worship had gone on long enough for Meat to get mildly irritated (yet another fan who had _only_ heard the  _Bat_ albums), he interrupted the lad's stream-of-conscious rambling. "Listen, about my package..." "Oh yes! Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Mr. Meat Loaf! It's right here!" "Do I have to sign for it?" "Yes, sir, right on this line here." Meat signed the form with an atypical indistinguishable scrawl, the quicker to get rid of him. "Thank you, Mr. Meat Loaf, sir!" the boy sputtered. He nodded courteously as the kid, still excited and sputtering, took off in his van.

Meat sat down in his easy chair, flipping open the script and reaching for a pencil to take notes on his legal pad. The cover page date: August 11, 2001. Okay, fairly recent. A note at the bottom indicated that what appeared to be multiple members of the Krolock family were meant to be portrayed by the same actor.  _Hmmm... all I remember is a gay son and a hunchback._ He skipped past the list of scenes (on their own, they wouldn't indicate anything in particular to him) and perused the list of musical numbers, which was more telling. The structure of Act I seemed to have changed at the beginning and at the very end, though the middle was mostly the same; aside from a scene or two seemingly being swapped around in what he called "the search through the castle," Act II was more or less what he saw in Europe.  _Alright, here goes nothing. Time to read._

* * * * * * * *

At a quarter to one, Meat finished Act I. His immediate thought was that the script read way more like Steinman than Polanski. Jim had injected enough of himself into this for the  _Fearless Vampire Killers_ influence to seem kind of like an afterthought a good 90% of the time. And the lyrics... lots of stuff that he sure didn't remember in the German version. Taken together with what remained, half of it was brilliant and half of it straight-up missed the mark. He wondered how much was Jim's and how much was the result of the original German. Perhaps that was why there weren't any credits for who wrote what on the title page.

He needed to take another glance with his thoughts collected, and see what stuck out to him. Maybe Jimmy would listen, maybe not, but an actor was allowed to have opinions. He flipped back to page 1, this time looking at his notes:

_ PROLOGUE  
_

  * _Don't remember this scene._
  * _Sarah and two literal babes in the woods, picking mushrooms._
  * _"Angels Arise" - from **Batman** demo? (Ask Jim.)_
  * _They come across a graveyard._
  * _Innocent prayer shattered by darkness. Big dance scene._
  * _Rocket casket???_



The "rocket casket" immediately caught his attention. He ran his finger down the page until he caught a passage he'd underlined in the stage directions: "SOMETHING BLASTS OUT FROM BENEATH THE GROUND, SLOWLY, WITH INCREDIBLE STRENGTH, SHOOTING OUT LIKE A ROCKET LAUNCHING, BULLETING UPWARD, SENDING EARTH AND STONES FLYING. The huge shape is revealed to be AN ENORMOUS COFFIN, and it is soon hovering in the air, wildly swinging back and forth like the pendulum of a clock, glowing and pulsing with inner light. THE LID SWINGS OPEN and FALLS TO THE GROUND. The interior of the coffin lights up so that KROLOCK is a shadowy outline."

The clock pendulum comparison was nerve-wracking to Meat.  _Am I gonna get motion sickness? What if I hit my head on the casket lid?_ He'd have to talk to Jim about that. More underlining, of dialogue exchanges ("Help me, Almighty God!" / "God has left the building!") and lyrics ("AND WE CAN RAVE UNTO THE NIGHT / RANT UNDER THE MOON / DANCING UPON OUR VERY OWN GRAVES") -- not for any serious reasons, but because he just liked it. Very atmospheric. Very Jim.

This led into "Original Sin." Interesting seeing Krolock's introduction moved to the top of the show, but he did like the scene... until he reached the strike-outs. Meat had instantly scratched out any mention of "the wolf with the red roses." No, no,  _no_. Bad enough that Krolock entered by bursting out of the ground riding (sort of) a large object in a graveyard with a bloodshot sky; any more explicit references to  _Bat_ , and they would think Meat and Jim were trying to trade on their association with one another. Besides, Jimmy had been putting that dialogue into everything since  _Neverland_ and  _The Dream Engine_ before it... Meat was never especially enamored of putting it before "You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth," but he'd conceded because the album was already weird enough, he trusted Jim's judgment, and nobody thought it would go anywhere anyway. It did kind of sound like something the predator would say to his prey in a werewolf movie or something, but it didn't fit the image in his head of what he saw in Vienna.

Back to his notes:

  * _Long goodbye. **Too** long._
  * _General note on Krolock and Sarah: too thick with tropes._



That was certainly true. For Ives' much-ballyhooed economy as a writer, he didn't seem to have taken an editor's eye to this scene at all. Details were poured on so thick it almost seemed like Jim was referring to a "vampire movie checklist" for comedic purposes. Mysterious romantic vampire? Check. Beautiful virgin close to her 18th birthday? Check. Return at a more proper time? Check. "...three winters from now, at the total eclipse of the moon." (What an anti-climax.) The scene was drowning under the weight of exposition, and Meat strongly suspected it hadn't changed enough yet from the attempts to snare Michael Crawford in the lead.

The next scene was another new one, designed to establish the characters of Professor Abronsius and Alfred. A very humiliating, brutal moment, seemingly designed to be performed "in one" while a scene change was going on, what with Abronsius' appearance spotlit in the darkness, in which the professor was fired from his position by the Heidelberg University board. Meat could live with that, even if he didn't think it was so important to know the exact source of Abronsius' determination to find a vampire.  _Vampire hunters just sort of come with the territory, don't they?_  

In comes Alfred, totally devoted to his teacher; from the way he said "You're all the family I've got," it might stem in part from being an orphan. Meat didn't remember that from Vienna, but it sort of fit. It'd go a long way toward explaining why this nerdy misfit was faithfully following a mentor who was so cold and indifferent to him. Then he reached an exchange he'd circled, with the simple notation of "Groan":

> ABRONSIUS: We must get there before the total eclipse of the moon, in 66 days. On that night, a vampire seeks the blood of an 18-year-old virgin... you're not an 18-year-old virgin, are you?  
>  ALFRED: Nineteen.  
>  ABRONSIUS: Good for you.

_There's Jim's sense of humor on full display_ , he thought to himself.  _He's the only guy who'd laugh at a cheap line like that._

The "Garlic" scene was pretty much the same and made enough sense. The dynamic between Chagal the innkeeper, his long-suffering wife Rebecca, and their attractive maid Magda worked pretty well, too; Magda and Rebecca had a frenemy vibe going on that was hilarious without interrupting the action...

> CHAGAL: Oh, why did we ever leave Warsaw....?  
>  REBECCA: It's true, it's true. We have nothing! Nothing!  
>  MAGDA: So how did you get so fat?

...and there was a cute running gag where Chagal would ask Rebecca to get something, Rebecca would pass the buck to Magda, and Magda would flirt Chagal into doing the job for her, so Chagal always ended up doing everything himself. This repeated a few times throughout the show, and Meat thought it had a chance of being quite funny if it was played correctly.

More strike-outs. The Madame von Krolock shtick had to go. Showing up for some silk she'd ordered (very Mrs. Danvers in  _Rebecca_ , a comparison Jim himself made in the script), she kept asking about Sarah's birthday and trying to come across as ominous and threatening, but it just wasn't working.  _Besides, you couldn't really disguise me enough for that to be effective._

Back in familiar territory: our heroes settling into their room upstairs, Sarah sings from her room, "It's just the wind," Alfred meets Sarah. The dialogue wasn't particularly exciting, but at least they weren't nearly as awkward as in the original. They sounded like teenagers... florid teenagers from a dime-store pulp, but teenagers. One line of dialogue jumped out at him: "Sometimes we need the boogeyman." That came up later in the script as well. Meat had to admit, it bothered him. A boogeyman sounded like something that lived under the bed of a five-year-old, not an aristocratic vampire in a castle who had invited Sarah to a ball.

Chagal nailing the door shut was still in, as was the evening's hi-jinks upstairs at the inn -- same events, though some characters had more to say. (Meat especially liked Magda's sassy put-down of Chagal: "THE ONLY RENDEZVOUS FOR YOU TONIGHT / IS WITH YOUR RIGHT HAND.") And now came the "Invitation to the Ball," moved up owing to changes in structure. These scenes were elaborate; the set designer would surely have a migraine. Meat pondered the cost of the "HUNDREDS OF BLOOD-RED ROSE PETALS" that would rain down on Sarah.

The seduction was a wild, mad scene: Krolock seemed almost bipolar, going from romantic to sneering, veering from zero to a hundred in a split second. The trio of "STUNNINGLY BEAUTIFUL AMAZONIAN VAMPIRES" that emerged from Sarah's bedroom walls was perplexing as well. Were they meant to be a temptation? Role models? Some component of romance novels he was unaware of, perhaps; did a woman's idea of an enchanted evening now include wine, roses, candlelight, and Amazons?  _If she was into chicks, maybe._  It seemed uncomfortably like the video of "Anything for Love," now that he thought about it. And then another moment he'd underlined in the stage directions: "WE HEAR an AMPLIFIED ELECTRONICALLY ENHANCED HEARTBEAT. [...] WE HEAR a SECOND HEARTBEAT -- his own -- pulsing under hers but faster, the two playing off each other rhythmically." Meat was no expert in vampire folklore, but didn't being undead basically imply no life, meaning no pulse, meaning  _no heartbeat_? More of Jim's  _Neverland_ bullshit shoe-horned into the script. _What's next, a vampire who shimmers when sunlight hits him?_

"KROLOCK LEVITATES SARAH." Oh, so they were supposed to  _fly_ now. No way _that_ could go wrong, with Meat being afraid of heights and overweight on top of that. Scratched out immediately. And the song goes on for twenty minutes. He was in and out in Vienna, long enough to be alluring, short enough to leave her wanting more. He'd suggest changing that back at the earliest possible opportunity. Familiar territory: Alfred realizes Krolock is in Sarah's room, wants to save her. But what is this shit from the professor? "We are scientists. We do not interfere. We observe."  _I thought this was the good guy. Rather illogical for a guy who prides himself on his logic in the next scene. Maybe this is supposed to be ironic?_ Krolock leaves, Alfred vows to keep an eye on Sarah.

Familiar territory again: morning chores around the inn, Chagal, Rebecca, and Magda whistling while they work, and the hunchback shows up. His gibberish admittedly made Meat giggle, though he wondered if it might play less well off the page. "Logic" was also close enough to the original without needing to be analyzed in depth. He didn't envy Crawford any of those tongue-twisters he was faced with, though, now that he'd accepted his new role and proven true Meat's unintentional prophecy of co-starring with him. Made "Hot Patootie" in  _Rocky Horror_ look like a cakewalk.

A linking scene set later that night got Sarah out of the house like she was in the original. It didn't seem to be thought through very carefully at all: she hears voices calling her, is unable to resist the urge to leave, and Alfred follows her. There was some confusing business with locked doors as well. It didn't seem to work the way Jim wanted it to. Once outside, Sarah met a mysterious priest, another apparent member of the Krolock family.  _Is it meant to be an actual family? Is it just Krolock in disguise? This is hard to follow._ Now it's the priest who leaves the boots. Otherwise, the nighttime outdoor scene was familiar: Alfred discovers Sarah attempting to escape, they sing their not-quite-a-love-song "Braver Than We Are," the Red Boots Ballet dream sequence happens, that new prayerful ballad they'd put into the Stuttgart version, and then Sarah leaves home, taking off into the woods. Wait... Chagal, Rebecca, and Magda are following her? Alfred and the professor follow them? Okay, hello extended chase scene!

Sarah enters the castle, her family scuttles under the gate just before it closes. Again with her family... was that really necessary? It's not like Chagal and Magda did much in Act II, and Meat didn't recall noticing that after Act I Rebecca had basically disappeared. Alfred and Abronsius show up, Krolock steps outside, the bit where they meet in front of the castle is dialogue now, Koukol leads them inside, and... what exactly is "Carpe Noctem" doing here? Krolock sings the main solo, other vampires are basically summoned from the night.  _Does not make sense_ , Meat had written and underlined several times. By the end of the scene, it returns to resembling the close of Act I as he knew it, with Krolock entering the castle and closing the heavy doors behind him. Curtains, end of Act I.

One word circled Meat's mind, end over end, rending and tearing everything else in its path: "Overwritten." It had potential, mainly where it resembled Vienna, but it was overwritten to a fault. It needed a lot of cutting, and maybe some further restructuring. Meat was no author, but monkeying with how Krolock was introduced threw things out of whack later on -- now it seemed like too much time passed between his invitation and Sarah running off to the castle. And the Madame von Krolock and Koukol scenes seemed to be cut from the same cloth. Did both of them really need to be there? And what was with "Carpe Noctem" closing Act I? He needed to talk to Jimmy about all of this. But first he had to read Act II. And grab a bite to eat -- his stomach was rumbling. Maybe he'd order out for Italian...

* * * * * * * *

Half a large Italian sandwich later, Meat Loaf tore a fresh page off his legal pad and opened the script to Act II.

It began with a peculiar stage direction indeed: "NOTE: after the first act curtain, when the audience reentered the theater lobby, they found it transformed into a Gothic vampire wonderland. During the intermission, the transformation of the theater itself into the Castle Von Krolock has been completed." Right off the bat, he could smell the typical Steinman touch. This idea ran the risk of being one of two things -- totally awesome, or cheesy beyond any measure, with no in-between. He was almost positive they couldn't pay any usher nearly enough money to slap on some plastic fangs and a cape for this endeavor.

"Total Eclipse of the Heart" was present and familiar... perhaps a touch  _too_  familiar. Then again, aside from amending a word or phrase here and there as needed, if one ignored the fact that the bulk of the lyrics already existed as part of a Grammy-winning pop single, it worked surprisingly well as part of the story as is. Toward the end of the song, however, Meat felt the familiar pangs of a strike-out on the horizon as he read a dialogue exchange where Sarah fell into Krolock's arms and asked how he became what he now was. Krolock responded, "Once upon a time -- long ago -- an innocent boy of fifteen took a walk in the woods... And he came upon a graveyard where he met a wolf with red roses... That innocent boy vanished and was never heard from again. And now, once-upon-a-time will never, ever end..."

First of all, again with the wolf with the red roses? _Seriously?!_  Secondly, this motif of "once-upon-a-time" which kept creeping up throughout the script and the lyrics was beginning to bug him. Alfred, Sarah, all the vampires, used the phrase at some point. It didn't sit right for Meat... how could, say, the lyrics about still living on even though "God has left the building" in Act I, or the vampires' number upon exiting their graves and Krolock's soliloquy in Act II which both dealt with the existential pain of eternal life, make sense if becoming a vampire was going to be otherwise portrayed like escaping to Neverland? How can a group of vampires sing about how "eternity isn't all it's cracked up to be" when everybody else who's joined the undead so far seems to be happy about it? Why should the audience care about their pain? The tone was decidedly inconsistent.

Alfred's nightmare was still there, although the notation "SONG TO BE WRITTEN" was a jarring reminder that "Carpe Noctem" no longer occupied its usual position in this draft. He was still puzzled about that choice. Did Jim really expect to write another song that fit nearly as well? He kind of liked where Jim was going with the choreography for that sequence in his stage directions, though... somehow, Meat doubted they'd find a dancer who'd be a convincing double for him as Krolock without the whole thing ending up looking rather like Chris Farley and Patrick Swayze's Chippendales dance-off on  _Saturday Night Live_. Besides, having Sarah tempted and seduced by a series of men rather than by Krolock had a chance of making the moment as much about Alfred's feelings of inadequacy as his fear of losing Sarah.

Well, that was interesting... moving "For Sarah" up to the moment where Alfred wakes from his nightmare.  _Solid choice_ , Meat jotted down. He got that it was supposed to be Alfred's big "statement of purpose" in the latter half of the show, but he remembered feeling that where it was placed in Vienna, where Alfred and Sarah meet in the castle bathroom and he discovers she doesn't want to be saved, wasn't the wisest slot. At a time when everything was supposed to be moving full-speed to the climax, it stopped the show's momentum cold. It was still a pop ballad that slowed the roll for what seemed like no particular reason (to Meat, anyway), but at least here it did the least damage, with the most dramatic heft: Alfred woke from a nightmare where he almost lost Sarah, and realized how much he loved her and the lengths to which he was willing to go in order to help her.

The lyrics did put him off a bit, though. This was supposed to be a love ballad, right? That seemed to be what it was all about, especially with that typically hyper-melodramatic Steinman ending: "TAKE THIS BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS / TAKE THIS SACRIFICIAL ANGEL / WHO WILL SAVE YOU." But if that was so, then why was Alfred listing a bunch of horrendous shit he'd do as a means to prove his affection? "I WILL STEAL, I WILL LIE / THERE'S NOTHING I WON'T TRY / TO GUARD AND SAVE HER"? He could understand Alfred swearing he'd kill for her -- with vampires involved, murder was certainly on the table -- but stealing and lying? What did that prove exactly? True, Jim had always remarked that he was more interested in the dark side of love, but this was bordering on Lifetime movie.

Undaunted, Meat continued to read as the story segued into Alfred and the professor's quest for the crypt. The winding subterranean hallways of the castle proffered encounters with both Madame and Father von Krolock, in which both appeared, said vaguely threatening things of no real importance, and then vanished as swiftly as they'd entered the picture.  _What useless characters._  The professor disappeared in the middle of their search, and now that Alfred was seemingly alone and vulnerable, the Count's son, Herbert, finally showed up. In truth, barring a single mention at the end of Act I, Meat had practically forgotten the character existed. Indeed, he'd almost assumed Herbert had been cut from the play. One short, vaguely menacing and flirtatious conversation later, Alfred pushed Herbert out of his way and pressed on.  _Well, **that**  was pointless. Almost like Jim needed to hurriedly introduce him after completely forgetting to do so._

Surprise! Professor Abronsius popped out of a trap door in the floor, and Alfred joined him in the crypt. So far, the scene played out pretty much as it normally did, but Meat did circle one interesting dialogue exchange:

> ALFRED: Did you bring a stake?  
>  ABRONSIUS: A stake? For what?  
>  ALFRED: To kill the Count von Krolock. To pound through his foul heart.  
>  ABRONSIUS: My boy, we are not here to kill a vampire. We will simply immobilize him.  
>  ALFRED: Immobilize?  
>  ABRONSIUS: Alfred. This is a rare and endangered species. We have come here to bring one back alive. For proof!

On the one hand, this resolved a plot hole Meat remembered from Vienna: all he ever saw the professor do successfully was take notes, and a mere diary of his Transylvanian excursion was unlikely to prove everybody wrong and grant him his coveted Nobel Prize. On the other, however, how did Abronsius plan to immobilize a vampire exactly? Meat's train of thought took him to a story he'd found back in his college days, when he was considering a ghost hunting excursion with a group of his friends and decided to hit the library first. Apparently, one method of immobilizing a vampire long enough to get away was to sprinkle thousands of poppy seeds on their grave, the idea being a vampire was compelled to count them all before it could go hunting. (Not that it was ever explained why they had this compulsion.) In theory, dump enough seeds on the grave and it could take until dawn to count them all, meaning a creature of the night would either have to go back into hibernation or die trying.  _It's amazing the memories one's brain holds onto..._  Meat couldn't tell if this info from old folklore would help or hinder, but he jotted it down anyway.

One thing Meat definitely noticed in this scene was the character of Alfred. He had changed in general, but it was especially noticeable here. In Vienna, he was normally quite timid, sometimes to the point of cowardice, but in Jim's script, he was more of a typical romantic hero. Did it fit the character? Well, it didn't seem to have altered the show's ending; Alfred still lost (or won, depending on how you looked at it). But it was a little odd to read. Still, looking back over the text to take notes, Meat couldn't help getting caught up in the story.

Brave Alfred opens the coffin, ready to pound a stake through the Count's heart, but it's empty. Before the shock can fade from that, a hand reaches out and grabs Alfred's throat: Chagal, fresh blood spilling from his throat. "Save her...! Save her....! Sarah....!" He topples into the coffin. Dead. This leads to the horrifying realization that the professor's pocket-watch has stopped, and the coffin was empty to begin with because the sun has set and the castle is awake. Before they get a chance to assess  _that_  situation, Alfred hears what he takes to be Sarah's voice singing her familiar theme elsewhere in the castle and runs to investigate, followed by Abronsius. If this was a movie, Meat would be on the edge of his seat with a bowl full of popcorn.

Enter... Rebecca and Magda? They find dead Chagal, and "Death Is Such an Odd Thing" follows, now a duet between the two. Meat felt bad for whoever would play Magda, her only solo turned into a duet. He also didn't know how to feel about Rebecca still singing the recitative that opened the song: "I WON'T LET THEM PIERCE YOUR HEART, NO NEVER..." That made no sense. No one had tried to kill him, or even suggested doing it. Another plot hole noted. Still, he could understand moving the song to Act II; it improved the pacing of Act I's climax, and a reviewer in Vienna had remarked on Steinman's relying on reprises of themes in the second act, going as far as to say that this was due to Jim running out of steam. If this was Jim's response to that, there were worse ways to respond. Besides, the number for Chagal and Magda in the crypt that it replaced was no great shakes anyway. Indeed, the latter half of the song covered  _that_  ground more than adequately: Chagal wakes up, has his big "bite Magda" / "Oy, have you got the wrong vampire!" moment, bites Rebecca as well, they turn and seem to take it very well...

> MAGDA: Are you all right?  
>  REBECCA: Yes. That was amazing.  
>  MAGDA: Yes it was.

...and the number ends on a darkly humorous note ("WHO WOULD HAVE KNOWN IT / IT TAKES AWAY YOUR BREATH / THE ANSWER TO THE QUESTION / 'IS THERE SEX AFTER DEATH?'"), with the three of them embracing the rest of their unnatural afterlives together. 

Elsewhere in the castle, Alfred pursued Sarah's familiar theme, and... oh Christ, here it was: the Herbert scene. The whole thing was cringe-worthy:

> _(Herbert's room: a vampire parody of a teenage boy's room. A WALL OF BATS hung up like school pennants. Weights. Armor.)_
> 
> HERBERT: Don't you hate this castle? You never know where you are. Hi again.  
>  ALFRED: Hello.  
>  HERBERT: You want to see my room?  
>  ALFRED _(trying to go around HERBERT)_ : Actually, I was looking for a friend...  
>  HERBERT _(blocking his way)_ : I'll be your friend.  
>  ALFRED: A different friend.  
>  HERBERT: I'm different. Let's be different together.  
>  ALFRED: Excuse me --
> 
> _(ALFRED starts out but HERBERT steps in his way.)_
> 
> HERBERT: You and I are like two petals on the same funeral wreath. Needy. Lonely. Acne. We both hate our name.  
>  ALFRED: How did you know...?  
>  HERBERT: Try "Herbert." It's been uncool for 300 years. I bet you sit up reading Schiller.  
>  ALFRED: I do read Schiller.  
>  HERBERT: Kant drives you crazy?  
>  ALFRED: Totally insane.  
>  HERBERT: Don't get me started. _(Points to AN ENORMOUS AND RATHER BED-LIKE SPIDER WEB.)_ You can sit down if you want.  
>  ALFRED: On that?  
>  HERBERT: Yeah, I spend like hours on the web. _(Points to BATS on the wall.)_ Those are my bats. Want to see my balls?  
>  ALFRED: Maybe some other time.

Meat scrawled furiously:  _Lame jokes, disturbing content_ _._ Nonetheless he pressed on as Herbert introduced Alfred to the books he'd been reading, culminating in their strange duet, "When Love is Inside You." This proceeded pretty much as normal: bite attempt, escape, scene change.

Next, Alfred suddenly finds Sarah. Not only was the scene order not working well (too much was happening too quickly, with little explanation), but the scene was curiously lopsided. The normal "come with me"/"not tonight" routine was present, in dialogue rather than sung recitative, though Alfred told her much more than he did in the European version... the extent of the Count's evil was fully revealed, including Chagal's death, and the prospect that Sarah would die that evening was raised as well. She didn't seem to believe anything he said or even consider it; the Count was going to save her from her banal existence, even if that meant becoming his vampire queen. Far cry from "Angels Arise"... how had she so willingly become the devil's disciple?  _Seems like a real bimbo._ And now... a new song? (Well, new-ish; Meat immediately recognized "Is Nothing Sacred" for obvious reasons.) Why? "For Sarah" deadened the show's momentum, and so it was moved to a spot where it did less damage. Why was there _another_  show-slowing ballad in its place? Did Alfred and Sarah really need to sing about how much had changed, wondering how they reached this point? Wasn't that whole vibe self-evident in the dialogue? At any rate, Sarah somehow vanishes from the bath, and Alfred goes searching for her again. (The words "wearing thin" occurred to Meat as he read.)

Finally, the professor returns to the scene. And so does Krolock, showing off his library. "Books, Books" is still there, but now a duet. Eh... whatever, not a massive change. The melody didn't really fit in with everything else Krolock sang in the show, but it made sense to have the Count feed Abronsius' enthusiasm. Finally, something interesting happened in the dialogue: Jim borrowed something from the movie! (Meat was surprised he could even remember this, considering the departures Jim's script had taken thus far.) The scene with dialogue about "long winter nights" and Krolock making a proposal to the professor... that was more or less here! Krolock offers Abronsius the gift -- so to speak -- of eternal life. As tempting as it sounds, the professor refuses, and to add insult to injury, he more or less sets off "Insatiable Appetite" by listing Krolock's old kills, the price others paid for the life he now lives. A screaming match and insults like "crime against nature" later, during which Alfred comes in and finds the professor, the scene ends on a dramatic note:

> ABRONSIUS: I consecrate myself to the quest of my good friend Alfred: to preserve one drop of purity in the filth of this world. And eradicate you!  
>  KROLOCK: But what of all the hundreds in the castle graveyard? Will you eradicate all of them?  
>  ABRONSIUS & ALFRED: Hundreds....?  
>  KROLOCK: Of my fellow creatures. -- Rest in peace, Professor. _(Sings, furiously)_  ONLY THE STRONG SURVIVE / THE PIOUS BE GONE / THE DAMNED WILL STAY / NATURE IS THE LADDER / WE HAVE CLIMBED UP BY / AND NOW WE KICK HER AWAY!

"Eternity" and "Insatiable Appetite" proceeded more or less as normal, but the end of the latter scene had Meat crossing things out again: "During the final moments of Krolock's soliloquy, the graves rise up and swoop out just as they had appeared, and KROLOCK flies effortlessly and ecstatically above them." "Effortlessly and ecstatically." Yeah, because this was such a celebratory moment. Just the time to put on your party face and fly.

Speaking of party... time for the ball! Meat had to admit that, much as it seemed Jim hadn't put much thought into the opening dialogue between Alfred and Abronsius, it still sort of fit the "bumbling vampire hunter" archetype. Abronsius seriously suggesting that Sarah might refuse the bite offered by the Count, as if she could fob him off with a headache or he would take it lightly enough to eat someone else, was completely in character with someone who didn't really know what they were doing. The scene was otherwise normal, although Sarah offering herself as a willing victim wasn't sitting well. Took the monstrosity out of the moment. The minuet worked; the conversation was altered a bit, but the scene hadn't really changed materially. Then comes the moment when our intrepid heroes make a cross out of candelabra and... what the hell?

> ALFRED & ABRONSIUS: In nomine argento Christi: vesperate! In the silver name of Christ, go down like the sun in burning fire!
> 
> _(He and ALFRED continue to chant this, and the CASTLE BEGINS TO SELF-DESTRUCT. FIRE ERUPTS, WALLS CRUMBLE, and a RIVER OF BLOOD pours down the middle of the ballroom.)_

What was this?! Horror movie Latin, and some self-destruct ritual... and more than that, how the hell did Jim expect to pull this off in a theater?

Naturally, Krolock didn't take this sturm und drang too well, singing: "THE CUT OF THE BLADES / THE HOWL OF THE WINDS / THE HEAT OF THE FIRE / THE LASH OF THE WHIPS / LOOK AT MY FACE AND WHAT D'YA SEE? / READ MY APOCALYPSE." This sets off a rant about how vampires are going to take over the world now that their home has been ruined. "Come destroy our world and we have no choice but to come live in yours -- and conquer it!" Okay, okay, more  _Neverland_ shit here.

With a really cool set, Meat could suspend disbelief about a chant and a cross taking down a whole castle, but what came next defied explanation. Indeed, this was part of the reason he re-read the script in the first place. He had to make sure he wasn't imagining this:

> THE MOON HAS NOW FULLY ECLIPSED TO A BLOOD RED DISK as KROLOCK IS TRANSFORMED in a burst of flame into AN ENORMOUS TERRIFYING SERPENT-LIKE CREATURE like the creature in 'Alien,' except that its face is a fanged, grinning rictus of death. It erupts out of the floor like a jack-in-the-box and towers over the stage and our heroes. ABRONSIUS takes notes furiously. ALFRED drags ABRONSIUS and the numbed SARAH out, as the CASTLE IS TOTALLY CONSUMED.

What the actual fuck was that about? First of all, if a vampire has to shape-shift, isn't a bat the first port of call? Secondly... actually, there was no secondly. Meat's brain couldn't comprehend a "secondly." What was the point?

After that shock to the system, the script wrapped up much as the original did. During the finale, rather than pointless red streamers, the backdrop was instead a giant world map reflected on the wall, which would drip blood and go all red by the end of the song. At least that was a more interesting image...

* * * * * * * *

Alright. The hard work had been done. Now it was time to confront Jim about it. Remember -- accentuate the positive. All this script needed was some tinkering and polishing. It wasn't exactly  _Tanz der Vampire_ anymore, but it _was_ interesting. However, it was only a starting point. It would need more work. And boy, was Meat not looking forward to the argument that would ensue. Even mild disagreements proved troublesome, as history showed.

At the beginning of the _Bat_ tour in '78, Meat and his band, the Neverland Express, opened for Cheap Trick. Jim had commissioned some "Off-Broadway theater of the absurd" costumes for the band, assuring everyone that he knew how to put on a show, and opened the concert with a long rambling speech. It was a disaster, as they were nearly booed off the stage. Or the show that first brought them together at the Public Theatre in the early '70's, Michael Weller's  _More Than You Deserve_. Joe Papp had trusted his protege Jim implicitly, and what started out as a black comedy, a play with one or two songs in both acts, had blossomed in the journey from workshop to public presentation into a full-blown musical... and it ruined the play.

Jim was smart, but he didn't always know best. Meat didn't want a repeat of past patterns; he had to be honest with him before the changes hurt the show.

_**To Be Continued** _


	7. Mid-December 2001: Reading the Writing (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meat Loaf receives the script... er... scripts... and he's got questions. Turns out, so does Michael Kunze. Is there room for compromise? (Note: Funnily enough, this wound up being too long to contain in one chapter, so this will continue this development in the story.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rang. Three times. Four times. Finally, Jim Steinman managed to stir himself from his bed and pick it up... only to slam it back into its cradle.  _Fuck off, I'm asleep_ , he thought to himself, hoping whoever was calling would get the memo. Evidently not, as there was a familiar ringing in his ears and he hadn't just been to a concert. He scooped it up, if only to end the incessant noise. "WHAT???" "Jimmy, it's Meat." Jim rubbed the bridge of his nose, as though to ward off a headache. "Yeah, Meat, hi. You got the script?" "I did, and I've got some notes for ya."

That brought Jim to more-or-less full alertness. "I'm gonna stop you right there, Meat. Who's the writer?" "You, but--" "Who's been writing for theater ever since you first met him?" "You." "Good. Because I _have_ worked in theater all my life, and I  _know_ how to put on a show. I'm glad we've had this discussion, and  _you_ take  _that_ note into consideration. Good. Night." He was hanging up the phone as Meat replied, "I get it, I'm not trying to horn in on your territory, it's just... well... the script is a little... mixed up." A bit taken aback, Jim halted. "What do you mean by  _that_?" "Well, I mean it's radically different from the show I saw. I recognize parts of it, there's still lots of moments where everything is played completely straight, but... well... some of these jokes are off. The show I saw was a rock opera, there's no room for humor like this! And the tone is inconsistent. Don't get me wrong, a lot of stuff is better -- the pacing has improved in many places, and I understand tinkering with it for an American audience, but there has to be more of a middle ground than this." "It's not radically different, it's basically the same show! It's always been a big, Wagnerian musical with lots of humor." "Basically the same show? Did 'Carpe Noctem' close Act I when I saw it? Did Krolock shape-shift into a big alien monster for no reason?"

 _Shit, he remembered more of the show than I thought he would._ Jim sat down on a couch, heaving a sigh and growing testier as he spoke, mildly insulted by Meat's needling. "Okay, yes, I added some flash, but the crowd would go for it! And the jokes are fine, what are you talking about, 'off'? There was humor in the show in Europe!" "Yes, but the humor was _different_. It was subtler, darker, it sat better next to all your usual sensual, brooding, Gothic nonsense. This is either trying to be a campy romp like _Rocky Horror_ or leaning into the seriousness, sometimes within the same scene. Going one way or the other is fine, but we can't 'have our cake and eat it too' here. Do you want them to laugh _with_ us or  _at_ us? I understand we'll make some changes in rehearsal, but if we go out with something resembling _this_ , we'll be sitting ducks!"

Damn it, Meat was really energized now, arguing his point passionately. It was going to be one of  _those_ phone calls. "Alright, look, let's not say something either of us would regret," Jim replied. "Exactly, Jimmy. I didn't want to kick up a fuss or cause a stir. I just feel like the show in Vienna worked fine, and all these significant changes just seem like... I dunno, _over_ -correcting." "What will fix this for you?" "The German author... whatshisname, Kunze. Has he been consulted about the script?" "I mean, I send him the new drafts, and he gives me notes here and there..." "Well, I think we need to bring him in more, and get on the same page about what we're doing." "He's already pretty much on board..." "I understand completely what you're saying. But if it's all the same to you, I'd like to talk to him, and to take a look at the original English script." "What do you mean, the 'original' English script?" "I read the press, I know that neither you nor Polanski understand German; he wrote a 'dummy' draft in English for you to compose the music. I get that the lyrics are probably placeholders, and all that. But I want to read it and make some comparisons."

"...alright. I'm gonna warn ya, Meat, it's not exactly a work of art. But if you really want to see it..." "Okay. And do I at least have your permission to talk to this guy?" Jim snorted at that. Inquisitive bastard couldn't just take his word for it. "You don't need my permission, he _wrote_ the damn thing! Actors and authors can talk! Why don't you ask the director out to coffee while you're at it. Oh, wait a minute... that's _me_!" He hung up.

* * * * * * * *

On the other end of the line, Meat turned to his manager, Allen Kovac, who'd been summoned out to the house as a witness in case the phone call got hairy. "So how do you think it went?" Allen asked. "Well, better than I expected. Set up a meet with Kunze, he's supposed to provide me with what I'm looking for."

Unfortunately for Meat, it was time for another uncomfortable conversation. "Meat, I've been your manager since the early '90's. You know that I don't tell you what you want to hear, I tell you what you know to be true. Jim's got a brilliant mind, but he can't change the way the industry works. Capitalism is the dung of the devil. Musicals, and especially Jim's, _particularly_ if Dave Sonenberg is in the picture, tend _not_ to materialize more often than they do. If I leave your schedule clear for anything, it should be for another tour, for an album, a movie even... not for this. I wouldn't be doing my job right if I didn't tell you the truth. Dollar signs are more effective than telling anyone how wonderful they are. It's just like the CEO of any company, if you don't make your numbers, you shouldn't keep your job. And for you, I've always made the numbers." "Allen, I understand this whole road is riddled with bumps. But I made a promise."

"Riddled with bumps doesn't begin to cover it. I heard him: 'Why don't you ask the director out to coffee, oh wait, it's  _me_!' Is he serious?" Meat made a sour face before admitting, "I mean, right now, yeah, that's the story I'm hearing." "Look, I know he did some theater in college, he did a stint Off-Broadway, and he's worked with some bigger people recently, but has he ever directed a musical before? I'm not even talking something as big as this, I'm talking _period_. Has he?" Meat was forced to admit, "Honestly, I don't know." "And who is he replacing? Roman Polanski? Okay, he's story-boarded some music videos, but Polanski's an  _Oscar_ winner! Can he really fill those shoes? And that's aside from the script that gave you writer's cramp making all those notes! The show is no great shakes, anyway, never was."

Meat was finally worked up enough to respond to that point. "Listen, it  _should_ be a mess! It really  _should_ be! There's absolutely _no_ reason it should work... but the crazy thing is, it kinda  _does_. The thing about what I saw in Vienna, given how dark and brooding it was supposed to be... it took me by surprise how _fun_ it is. This particular draft is a misstep, I'll give you that, but that's what happens when you try to find a balance between a rock opera and a campy romp. ...okay, and when you recycle as much as Jim does. But the bones of a good show are here! And I think I can really bring a lot to it!" Allen looked as if he wished to interject, so Meat continued. "And before you say one more word, yes, I'm worried about Jim's directing skills too, I'm no idiot. But if I'm going to be serious about this, I have to confront one problem at a time, starting with the case of the missing author."

"Well," Kovac ruefully replied, "I suppose there's nothing wrong with fully exploring the situation... for now. And you can never say I didn't support you in your crazy endeavors." He handed him a folder. "I had Nene at the office ask Don Ketteler for Kunze's contact info and for his script. It's all in there." Meat opened the folder. "Allen, you're the best!" He plucked a scrap of paper from the folder. "...huh, go figure. He's got an apartment in New York." "Yes he does, and knowing you hate transatlantic flights, I already hooked it up. He'll be in the city to meet you later this week and hopefully hash things out together. Now get back to your homework! I'll be at the office."

* * * * * * * *

Kunze's script was a much shorter read, but Meat fully understood the American team's reservations after giving it the once-over. To be charitable, it was... less than brilliant, with a strange mixture of Jim's lyrics and some awkward English from Kunze. Talent could be lost in translation; maybe this guy was really great in German. In English, however, things were rather stilted, and the flow wasn't what one would call seamless. Meat had characterized it on the phone as placeholders sight unseen, but that was clearly the kind of filler he had just read.

More than that, he could identify the elements that were deemed inappropriate for an American audience as easily as anyone. A song called "God is Dead," for example, would definitely draw ire from the puritanical sectors of the population; switching it back to the "Original Sin" lyrics, while obviously recycled, was a wise move. But in spite of its flaws, Meat found a lot more to praise about Kunze's script. He didn't see why Jim had gone for wholesale rewrites when leaving the score essentially intact -- except for some phrases and wording -- would have worked just as well with the new book, especially if it got the trimming it needed.

At that moment, the phone rang, startling Meat from his train of thought. He picked up. "Hello?" "Am I speaking to Meat Loaf?" The voice was mildly accented; it sounded Germanic, but it could be anybody of European origin who'd learned English, as the accent tended to sound similar to Meat. "Yes, who's calling please?" "This is Michael Kunze, I wrote  _Dance of the Vampires_. I thought I would call ahead to discuss a place to meet for lunch. I must admit, I'm very happy you reached out to me." "It'll be a pleasure to meet you as well... er... I'm sorry, do you prefer Mister or Herr Kunze?" "The prefix is unnecessary. Call me Michael." "Alright then, Michael it is. I was told we'd be meeting later this week. When's best for you?" "I'll be in New York by Wednesday, Thursday at the latest."

"Alright, I can fly in Wednesday and we'll meet Thursday. Any idea what you'd like for lunch?" "When I'm in New York, I tend to try something local. Are you familiar with Kitchen Market in Chelsea?" "I must say, you're speaking my language, Michael... they make the best traditional Mexican burritos I've ever had." "The Guinness stout gingerbread is my favorite." "Alright, Kitchen Market it is! I look forward to seeing you, sir!" "And I, you. If I may be candid for a moment, I don't like how things are going, and I'm hoping you can help."  _Not one to beat around the bush, this guy._ "I'm glad we're meeting up then. See you Thursday!"

* * * * * * * *

Come Thursday, if you were in Chelsea at Kitchen Market, you could see a fellow with a nagging resemblance to an accountant with a wild side and someone who basically resembled an older law professor sharing handmade chips and salsa, and soft tacos with a side of guacamole. "This stuff is fabulous!" Meat enthused. "Indeed, you can see why it has been in this neighborhood for so long," agreed Michael. "But, if I may turn to something serious for a moment, I believe it's time to discuss the show." "Oh yes, of course. You mentioned you weren't happy. Help me understand." After a momentary interruption from the waiter bringing the much-coveted burritos, Kunze began.

"First of all, let me say that I'm not bothered by making changes for American audiences. Each culture has peculiarities and different standards; I had to cut a scene with a madman from my first show,  _Elisabeth_ , in Tokyo because they have a hangup about public displays of insanity. But things are  _too_ different. I'd have understood if Jim and David and John had changed some things they thought were not good for the States, and kept the show's basic structure. But from the beginning, instead of leaving things as they are, Jim has tried to improve what he thinks he can do better. They've changed the whole concept of the show! It would never be my desire to copy something that's been successful here, but every time I object, I get ' _The Producers_ is the biggest thing on Broadway, Michael; if we can make it more like _The Producers_ , we'll succeed!' 'People who pay $100 for a ticket want to have a nice evening.' 'A musical needs dialogue so people can be entertained.' 'You can't have a song entitled 'God is Dead' here, the audience won't go for it.’ 'Shows in New York cost four times more than they do in Europe! The rules are different!'" He paused to sip his water. "On that, I can agree. I _don't_ write in the 'Broadway' style. As a German, a European, I can't write a 'typical' Broadway show. I work with a different list of ingredients than yours, and there are other people who can do this sort of thing better if childish jokes are what they want."

"Have you said anything?" "I did! But they're only interested in showing a completely new version here. For now, I'm trying to be satisfied with it because at least the other version is mine." "Well, I've got to be honest with you, it was too different from what I saw in Vienna for my taste. The latest draft is interesting, it shows promise, but I don't know if we can really say it bears much relation." "Which draft have you seen?" "August." "I will grant you that August is better than what I first saw." "What did you first see?" "They did a draft for the workshop production back in May that Jim was very keen about. I actually brought a copy with me if you would like to look. I was worried I'd have to dissect it, with an ally of Jim's playing the lead."

That set Meat back a bit. "You mean August isn't his preferred draft?" "It's the latest compromise. I have come to learn that on a show where Jim is in the driver's seat, they can attempt to plan around him, but he will make it hard the entire way. David confided in me that he spoke with Sonenberg, who explained that he and John could do their own adaptation as they pleased, because Jim wasn't a very good writer and his draft wouldn't be a huge improvement. When Jim handed them the May script in response, which was a mish-mash of his ideas and their ideas, Sonenberg's response to their dismay was to tell them to rewrite it, put as much back in of their work as they could and leave as much of Jim's work as would make him happy. That's basically what they've been doing ever since." "And were you consulted?" "I've been giving them the same notes since May, to no avail." "I think I'll take a look at that May draft now."

Kunze passed over the script. Meat noted the title page date of May 10, 2001. As he rifled through its pages, his reaction was one of puzzled confusion. "By the looks of things, there's a lot more of Vienna in this, huge chunks of it in fact." "The recitative, when it appears, is basically unchanged, yes. Pay close attention to the... humor." Meat could see why Michael hesitated to call it that. There was a  _lot_ of strange new material -- humor, barely, that ran the gamut from toilet to sexual, from genitalia to Beatles references, all coming one joke after the next, with little to no breathing room. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Well..." Meat searched for exactly what to say. Finally, he chose the matter of fact approach. "Where do we begin with what you don't like?" "They've rewritten the prologue to no discernible profit, they've cut songs and replaced them with dialogue, they've changed characters or removed them entirely. And the focus is all wrong! Alfred is supposed to be the protagonist; their story seems to be more about _Sarah_. I can't think of a rationale behind that. And Count von Krolock has been tampered with. He's practically schizophrenic. They want to make this tragic figure into some sort of... horny old man! How can she truly fall in love with him if he's the punchline?" "I agree with you on that. In looking at the scripts from May and August, they seem to have a lot of scenes in common. I think we can deduce from that what Jim would be unwilling to budge on. But if you could get everyone to listen to you, understanding that it would be an uphill battle, what would you change?"

Kunze hesitated.  _Sheesh, he's acting like it's the first time anyone asked his opinion._ Meat couldn't hide his amazement at Michael's reaction. "I want less dialogue, more music. And a different ending, more cynical. The vampires have survived into modern times and they are everywhere; in banks, offices, town halls. I always wanted to explore this idea, but Polanski felt it was too 'on the nose'." "What about the new beginning?" "If I get the rest of that, the new beginning is okay with me, I suppose."

Meat looked into Michael's eyes. "Michael, I won't lie to you; I can't make promises. Normally I don't interfere with authors in any way, that's my policy. But, I agree with you that too much has changed, and I'm used to reasoning with Jim. I don't see why we shouldn't be able to meet in the middle, especially as long as I'm in the show. I'll talk to him, and I'll get back to you."

On this note, the meeting ended. Meat considered it more or less a success. He was smart enough to know that Kunze likely wasn't feeling particularly confident, and he probably didn't believe Meat would be able to come through, but he hoped at least that the fact he'd solicited his input had improved his spirits. It was time to set up a story meeting. If he was going to be the star, he wouldn't overreach, but he damn sure wanted to be as on board with the material as possible. After the holidays, everybody would have to get together.


	8. January 2002: Tête-à-tête

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meat Loaf attempts to organize a story meeting, but things are a little more rotten in the state of _Vampires_ than was initially apparent: no producers, (seemingly) no creative team, and other assorted mini-horrors. Does Meat have to fix _everything_?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was cold out, even for January. But no matter the time of year, the location was choice. In a real estate listing, Jim Steinman's home in Connecticut would look like a steal: single-story one-family ranch, 14 rooms (3 beds, 3 baths), forced air, a fireplace, a hot tub/spa, 6,194 square feet of space on a 1.56-acre lot. In May 1993, this was the house that  _Bat II_ had bought, and he'd just had it remodeled a couple years ago. Granted, Jim spent more time in the city at his apartment off Central Park West, especially when he was recording or working on a show, but this was home sweet home. Not that he could always make it work for professional purposes; when he'd once been solicited to work with Aerosmith on what became _Permanent Vacation_ , he invited them to his house (which he was only renting at the time), only to be turned down because they didn't want to come out to "some bumfuck suburb somewhere." Needless to say, that didn't sound like the start of a deal. They went with Desmond Child, and he wished them no ill will. Besides, them getting sober would really have cramped his style.

Today, Jim was cleaning up... or rather, directing whoever had showed up (in this case, Barry Keating and a couple of young-looking guys he thought he recognized from the cast of _Starmites 2001_ , a revival of Barry's sole Broadway credit into which he'd tossed some money) on what needed the quick once-over. He'd hoped Charles Vasoll would stick around when he came by to drop off the mail (and the meds), but he had begged off, citing problems at home in Northport. It was times like these that Jim momentarily questioned the generosity of keeping Charles' house in his name. Barry was much more valuable, anyway; like Steve Rinkoff, he was very much Jim's acolyte, except he was the vintage edition. Ever since they'd met at Amherst College, he'd assisted Jim, to one degree or another, in all of his projects, proving quite instrumental in the development of _The Dream Engine_ and  _Neverland_. Successful in his own right as well, having written and composed  _Starmites_. True, it hadn't done so well on Broadway, but Jim did kinda like it... enough to throw money into the revival anyway. Not everybody was thrilled with Barry's interjections and what they perceived as genuflecting to Jim, but honestly, he wasn't nearly the mental case other people could be.

At any rate, back to telling Barry what should go where. Of particular interest was setting up the hi-fi stereo system -- the speakers, the amp. Meat Loaf had insisted on a story meeting for the _Dance of the Vampires_ team, even acceding to Jim's request that everybody meet at his house (again, a gambit from Meat that he hadn't counted on), and naturally that might mean playing the music at some point. Jim had first encountered this beauty back when he was recording  _Bad for Good_. Indeed, in those days of plans made in lines of white powder on glass coffee tables, he'd once gone to Epic Records when they were putting together the ad campaign and requested they buy two thousand of these stereo systems, an absolute fortune, to be sent out with the album for reviewers to listen to. He felt it was the only way they could _really_ hear it. Looking back, he could appreciate the perceived genuine wackiness of this request, but part of him still wondered what the hell Epic knew about promotion. Oh well, at least they actually bought him one for his home.

"Barry, did they say when they were arriving?" Jim asked, realizing he'd forgotten how much time they had to prepare. "David Sonenberg is coming at around 1, and everybody else should be getting here by 2:30 or 3. Meat says he wants to stop at Ground Zero on his way out of town to pay his respects." Both of them paused in thought for a second. The wound was still rather fresh; many times long ago, they'd all taken for granted that the World Trade Center had been an iconic fixture in the city, just as much as the Empire State Building or Madison Square Garden. _Wait... Sonenberg?_ "What's David doing coming here? He  _does_ know this is a story meeting, right?" "Well, he told me he needed to brief the team on something, and since you were all converging at one place, this seemed as good a time as any." "You'll stick around, right? Take notes and stuff?" "What'll I do with the guys?" "Send 'em to town for Chinese, I think everyone will get hungry at some point."

"Oh, and Jim..." "Yeah?" "We moved those boxes again."  _Oh Christ, he's gonna pick now to bring this up._ Barry continued, "When are you going to unpack them?" "I'll get around to it when I get around to it." "Jim, you haven't touched those boxes since Meat helped you move to Putnam Valley decades ago. They're basically furniture at this point." "Look, is it such a problem that I like them the way they are?" "Hoarder." "I am  _not_ a hoarder!" "Well, at any rate, I opened one--" "What makes you think you can go through my shit?!" "I've known you since 1969, when are you going to be okay with me doing things for you? Now as I was saying, I opened one and I found a review of  _Neverland_ at the Kennedy Center." "Get the hell outta here, seriously?" "Yeah. It wasn't a particularly kind one; it was also a memo to Joe Papp. Made me wonder how you got hold of it, never mind why you kept it." "Do you have it handy?"

Barry handed Jim the document. Dated May 3, 1977, it was addressed to Joe Papp from Craig Zadan "Re: Washington Theater."  _Huh... funny how the world turns out. One minute he's reporting to Joe, the next he's a major TV producer._  He read to himself, scanning different parts of the page:

> The Musical Theater Lab production of Jim Steinman's  _Neverland_ was confused, unfocused and generally cold and emotionless, though handsomely mounted. [...] The book scenes were undecipherable (the author and director admitted that they have been working on the show for too many years since obviously the audience had no idea what was happening on the stage). The musical numbers, however, were very exciting. Steinman's rock score is solid, though definitely more suited to a rock concert situation than a musical theater environment. The piece would be helped if the book was cut entirely, more songs added, and the entire show staged as a rock opera. [...] The most interesting aspect of this Lab production was that it defied the organization's purported purpose: to work on book, music and lyrics rather than production.  _Neverland_ spent all of its time in Washington working out electronic production difficulties, leaving the creative team little time to work on the script.

Jim remembered now why he'd hung onto this. Joe had circled the sentence about his score, and added the note "Maybe you belong in the rock world after all." That had stung at the time; he remembered parting on particularly bad terms with Joe (an ashtray had been flung in his direction), saying he was leaving the theater to make records. He'd tried to take it as encouragement, but part of him had always wondered if he was making a mistake. And now, 20 or so years later, here Jim was, ready to do it all again. And some of the same faces would be around the table -- Barry, Meat, Sonenberg. Funnily enough, at least in Vienna, he'd taken Craig's advice;  _Tanz_ was more or less a rock opera, although there were a few minor book scenes sprinkled in. Truth be told, he wondered if his rewrites for America weren't _too_ big a departure. Why else would Meat be asking for a story meeting that everybody needed to be at?

The worst part was that he didn't have John Caird around to delegate some of the 'busy-work' involved with the book. He'd called John's agent in London, who had said, "There's a chance that he may not be with the project much longer." What the hell was that about? Oh well... all part of another problem to be dealt with a later date, probably at another meeting.

* * * * * * * *

A few hours later, everyone was at the house: Sonenberg, with his baby face and pretty little features more or less intact (though the blond curls were long gone), still favoring the little round glasses and sloppy linen blazers that most Harvard lawyers did; Barry and Meat, chatting about sports with the kids from _Starmites_ ; David Ives, picking at some moo shu pork; Michael Kunze; even Michael Crawford was there, in essence at least. (He'd been dialed in on speaker-phone; he was enjoying some leisure time with the family.)

It was Crawford who ultimately called the meeting to order. "Hello, everyone! Glad to hear that you're all in fine spirits! But I'm with the family, and I haven't got long; maybe we should get to the business at hand. So, Meat, you called a story meeting. I must admit, I have some issues with the script as it currently stands as well." Jim had a smart remark for that, but Meat headed him off at the pass. "Alright, Michael, let's hear it." "Well, I like Abronsius; indeed, I like him a lot more than I was expecting. He's the source of many of the show's laughs, I've been experimenting with a German accent... at present, it's partway between Professor Irwin Corey and Ludwig von Drake." "It sounds hilarious!" Barry chimed in, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. Everyone turned to look at him; he blushed beet red and piped down.

"The thing is... he's a bit, sort of, crabby, isn't he? That's not a real problem, I suppose, but performers want to be loved  _because_ of their character, not  _in spite_ of it." "Okay, what are you driving at exactly?" Jim impatiently replied. "I dunno exactly, Jim, you're the writer..." " _We're_ the writers," Ives corrected. "...right, do forgive me. Can't we... I dunno... can't we give him some moments with Alfred that are a little more... heartwarming? He's kind of starting to go there in the script we have, I just wonder if we could push it a little further, make him more fatherly. Even if it's still slightly stern."

Everyone in the room turned to Kunze. Word had gotten around fast that he and Meat had had conversations, and so -- more than usual -- everyone was being solicitous of his thoughts. "Well... as long as we don't lose the essence of the character, the absent-minded professor and so forth, we could make him more like the mentor to Alfred that he's supposed to be but isn't." He didn't exactly answer the question, he'd sort of "handled" it, but one could read between the lines. As long as it wasn't too big a departure, they could explore some new aspects of Abronsius' personality here and there.

"Brilliant! Long as the character holds his own, I'm satisfied. Not to sound selfish, but can you guys cover anything that doesn't involve me without my being on the phone? I'd like to get back to Emma and Lucy and the kids, we've rented a villa in Sicily and everyone wants granddad to watch them in the pool." "Before you leave, Michael," Sonenberg suddenly spoke, "I think we've got to talk about the show's present situation." Nobody had been expecting this. Present situation?  _What_ present situation?

"I know we needed to postpone for obvious reasons, but that set us back in more ways than one. We... basically don't have a creative team right now. John Caird's attending to other commitments, Ezralow's doing a Josh Groban TV special, and we need a new set of designs." "New set of designs?" Jim responded, confused. "I thought we were using the same stuff from Vienna and Germany." "Even if we _get_ investors, we can't afford the designs from Europe." "What do you mean  _if_? Why does it hinge on other investors? I thought you raised your share!"

"I _raised_ my share, but that's _all_ I raised! Andrew Braunsberg threw in his, too, but ours combined won't bring you this show on their own! We've got _nothing_! This is gonna cost at least 12 million,  _maybe_ more like 15. It's not like either of us has a small fortune tucked away! Do you know how much it will cost for that fucking coffin to rocket out the floor? Who's paying for the six-ton graveyard to come down from fifty feet in the air? Shows cost four times as much on Broadway as they do in Europe! And this is before we get into the fact that we had readings and workshops that didn't come cheap, even though we had other people shouldering the burden with us. When they walked..."

"When they walked, _I_ did what _you_ said!" Jim angrily retorted. "You said we needed stars to boost the box office -- we have _two_ of them! You said we needed the show to have more of a balance between horror and comedy -- we're in a meeting _right now_  supposedly aimed at adjusting it! We've done readings, we've done workshops, there _should_ be a list of interested investors by now! You're telling me I followed every instruction you gave me and we couldn't attract producers?!" Sonenberg sighed and shook his head. "Jim, that happens. The odds of failure in any show biz endeavor are astronomical. You know this. I have this conversation with you time and time again." "So basically you came here to tell us it's a wash, is that it?!"

Meat and Barry exchanged stricken looks. As long as they'd known him, neither of them could ever bear to see Jim like this. For everyone else, except maybe Kunze, this was just another meeting, another job. Sonenberg was right about one thing: projects  _did_ fall apart, all the time. But Jim was like the Greek myth of Sisyphus and the rock... always within steps of achieving his dream, but never quite getting there. And usually due to David's interference. Barry's look seemed to be urging him:  _Say something. **Do** something._ 

"Guys, guys, before things get too heated and we say stuff we might regret…" Meat began, pausing in thought as to what the hell to say next. Then he glanced around the room and found inspiration. "Look at who's at this meeting. We've got me, we've got two Grammy-winning songwriters and a terrific playwright, we've got the biggest box office star in musical theater on the phone, we have a music manager with a list of clients as big as my ass." Barry smiled eagerly, expecting a mention, like a puppy who wants a treat for just being cute. "...okay, and a six-time Tony nominee, who's taking notes for some reason. At any rate... we all know promoters, theater owners, rich people with cash to burn. We make more contacts shaking hands at industry parties than we know what to do with. Between all of us, we've got to be able to rustle up some coin, or what is any of the networking good for!"

Meat turned to the phone. "Michael, are you still on the line?" "Yes, though I'm beginning to wonder why..." "Wonder no more! I know you were up for my part for, like, twenty seconds. Were you bringing any investors to the table for that?" "Now that you mention it, yes, there _were_ a handful." "When you get back from Sicily, take a meeting with them the next time you're in Manhattan. Explain the situation. Tell them we're looking to cut costs and bring this show in tight, so they can look at our numbers, offer suggestions for a way forward." "I'll see what I can do. Is that all you need from me right now?" "Oh right, vacation... yeah, I guess so. Have fun!" "Thanks Meat, let me know how it turns out! Hopefully the next call will be about when rehearsals start. Ciao, everyone!" Click.

"Alright, let's see... Herr Kunze!" "Please, Meat, simply Michael will do." "Whatever you want me to call ya, was there any interest from other American producers before the show started on _this_ path?" "I believe there was. We had this husband-and-wife couple who were major producers book tickets to opening night in Vienna." Kunze paused before stating, a bit sadly, "They canceled last minute." "Any chance you remember who they were?"

Sonenberg cut in: "It was the Weisslers, but--" "As in Barry and Fran? The Weisslers who did _Chicago_? The license-to-print-money Weisslers? We need a meeting with them ASAP." "Meat, I admire your enthusiasm and your desire to play savior, but none of this is a guarantee." "Well, our chances increase if we have all the help we can get, and right now, David, we need all hands on deck. Is there anybody _you_ can think of that might come to the table?" "Well... I _am_ about to have lunch with Jerry Weintraub about a film project. You win an Oscar, they all come knocking." Meat nodded, encouraged by this. "I remember Jerry, he started in talent management and concert promotion. Theater is a good way for him to combine those interests. He may not bite, but bring up the project anyway."

Jim's engines were beginning to rev again; weakly, he tossed out, "Hey, Ives, what about Leonard Soloway?" At this mention, Ives perked up. "Hey, yeah! I could talk to him." Sonenberg responded, dismissively, "He's never been major on Broadway, mainly a house or company manager." " _But_ he's produced before, and he's been looking to move back into that sector. He was very interested when he came to the reading last April." "...he came to the reading?" Sonenberg faltered, realizing he'd been caught at _not_ sizing up a potential mover-shaker. "Yeah. He called it a gem." "The worst that he can say is no, and we're already starting a list to go down, so give him a buzz," Meat replied, buoyed by an optimistic mood that he sensed was growing infectious as he looked around the room. This certainly had turned around. "As for me, I'm gonna talk to Michael Cohl."

"Michael Cohl? The concert promoter?" Sonenberg queried, with a trace of skepticism. "Yeah, why not? He's already got money in _The Producers_ and  _Hairspray_ , and even if he didn't, he's handled packages as big as this; you know who he's worked with, it's practically an encyclopedia of the business." Noticing that some of the theater people in the room looked lost, Meat filled in the blanks: " _Fortune Magazine_ calls him the Howard Hughes of rock and roll. He came up with the concept of package touring." Jim, sensing where Meat was going, joined in: "Package touring is basically lock, stock, and props... he works directly with the artists, not just strategizing and routing the tour, but promoting the dates and assisting with developing the aftermarket." "Books, movies, DVDs, TV specials, advertising. It's not just the tour, but the related ancillary businesses. He turns it into a damn goldmine." "I realize I reveal my ignorance in asking, but who has he promoted?" questioned Kunze. With confidence bordering on bravado, Meat chortled before answering, "The shorter list is who _hasn't_ he promoted... Frank Sinatra, Michael Jackson, Prince, Stevie Wonder, Pink Floyd, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, U2... some of his biggest work in the touring market has been with The Rolling Stones. The saying in the industry is, 'When The Stones won't make a move without talking to you first, your name must be Michael Cohl.' Steel Wheels and Urban Jungle, enormous financial success; Voodoo Lounge, grossed $320 million; Bridges to Babylon, over $274 million... this guy's a winner."

"He's also a chiseler," Sonenberg groused. Meat sighed heavily, momentarily unable to check his inner self-control. _Why can't you be enthusiastic for just one second?_ "Guy has his hand in the till every chance he can get. The _Toronto Star_ wrote about one of his schemes a while back, a number of managers of touring bands spilled the beans; he booked artists like Springsteen and U2 and The Stones into this Canadian venue, and he added an extra $3 to the price of every ticket, which he told the artists was a deduction for sales tax. If you guessed that he didn't remit the tax to any government body, you guessed right; that 'extra 3 bucks' added up to $5 million that went right into his pocket. He only wound up avoiding jail time by selling controlling stock in one of his companies to Labatt's." "So," responded Jim, "you're saying he has money to spend, and he knows how to cut corners and get more." "Oh sure, Jim, because we want to line up with a whiff of anything illegal on a high risk investment. I'm just saying, if we bring him on, there have to be stringent safeguards. We'll need to double- and triple-check every transaction that comes through him."

Meat interjected, "Well, even if we need to give him the kind of attention you should have gotten in 1981--" "Oh, sure, beat a dead horse!" Sonenberg fired back. "--as I was saying, we thought things were hopeless only moments ago, but now we've got Crawford's handful, we've got five other possible producers, we've got you and Andrew already at the table. Even if some of them say no, we should still be farther ahead than we were on the producing front. This project is _not dead_."

"Until the fat fuck sings," Sonenberg grumbled dejectedly. "Why don't you tell me where we're gonna find a whole new creative team? Without that, it might as well be dead." Meat stared at him warily. "David, I don't have the highest opinion of you, but I know you're not stupid. You're not seriously implying that this production only looked into one person for each position, right? Surely we can look around at a few people and get some opinions. Worst case, we're not opening till October, which means we don't start in earnest until August. That's after the Tony Awards. Let's see if any real talent emerges this season, and if we're _really_ pressed for time, we'll just hire whoever won." "Wow, nice strategy for solving our problem." "Do you have a  _better_ idea?" "Well, even if it works, and we get them locked down by June or July, that's not nearly enough time to design, approve, and execute a whole show." "Again, unless you've got a solution, what other plan do we have?"

At a loss for any other way to proceed, Sonenberg nodded gravely. An idiot could see which way the wind was blowing. For right now, Meat was the golden boy and he was the bad guy for shooting down every idea, but that couldn't last forever. Let everybody be in concurrence on the next course of action all they wanted; there was no way they could rewrite the script, schmooze with potential investors or producers, and put together a new creative team all at the same time, especially with a massive crunch on. Something would have to give way.  _God, please bring an end to this insanity._

"I don't see why it's not doable. Besides, we already have the key pieces of the puzzle," Jim chimed in. "We've got the writers, we've got the stars, I was co-directing to begin with. Slap Barry in as my assistant, maybe delegate the choreography to him too, and we'll whip this into shape." A deathly silence descended upon the gathering, where for a moment there had been some chatter as the project seemingly sputtered back to life. Judging by the look on most of the faces around the room, that was exactly the wrench in the works Sonenberg needed.  _Shit, that was fast. I gotta try this prayer thing more often._  Adding icing to the cake, Meat was brave enough to be the first to speak: "Actually, I think we need to interview some directors, too."

"Why go to the trouble? I have it under control," Jim replied, ice entering his tone. "Jimmy... you  _think_ you have it under control. Things have been pretty serious in this conversation so far, let's be real right now: you've never directed a musical this big in your life. You and Barry are fine for a workshop, but this is a spectacular with a lot of moving elements." "I can't believe I'm hearing this!" Jim growled. "What happened to all that cool shit you were saying a second ago? We add producers, we can't miss! Half the show in Vienna _I_ had to talk Polanski into doing. _Or_ did it behind his back. _A lot!_ He had a _totally_ different vision." "Jimmy, you probably made notes that people agreed with. That's not the same as directing." "Or making a meaningful contribution," Sonenberg added, hoping fuel would fan the flames. "I've directed music videos!" Jim testily rejoindered, rounding on both of them. "You've _story-boarded_ music videos." "What about that one I directed for Bonnie, 'If You Were a Woman And I Was a Man'? That was nominated for seven Billboard Video Awards!" "Did it _win_ any?!"

Now it was Barry who called a halt to the argument brewing: "Fellas, get it together! Steiny, c'mon, we gotta be serious about this if you want it to work. It's not gonna hurt things if they just talk to a few other people, taking a meeting isn't committing to anyone else." This silenced Jim momentarily, out of shock that Barry had actually contributed anything to the conversation more than other factors, but his sour expression betrayed his displeasure at the turn of events. "Don't give me that look. Let them interview directors and choreographers. We're still in position if it doesn't work out. Hey, buddy, this is a moment to celebrate! What's the matter? Now, who wants dessert? I think parfait is in order. Meat, come to the kitchen with me and help me pick out the liqueurs."

* * * * * * * *

Meat couldn't help admiring Jim's kitchen. He didn't understand how a guy could remodel a house, including such a fabulous space for cooking, and constantly order out for barbecue. The rounded, organically shaped islands and counter-tops carved a smooth-flowing traffic pattern throughout the room, while an appropriately placed arch brought an overall softening to the more angular fixed features. "Okay, Barry, what's he got? Any grenadine? Chambord perhaps?" "Check the fridge, I don't even know if Charles did his shopping this week, I just need to talk to you."

Meat groaned inwardly. "Barry, if this is some excuse to beg me for the job..." "No, no! Are you kidding? Biggest thing I direct these days is the Theatre World Awards. My specialty is Off-Broadway, and the last time I choreographed something was 1969. I dragged you in here to tell you I'm with you. There's no way on earth we helm this thing and it comes out looking like anything other than a mess, especially with so much money at stake. I don't want a repeat of _Starmites_ in '89. That bruised me enough. As for Jim, if he directs a show anything like he produces a record, that thing will never open on time  _or_ on budget." "Didn't he direct the workshop in April? How did that go?" "It was a glorified reading with primitive blocking. His biggest contribution was loaning Steve Barton one of his designer leathers to make Krolock look imposing in rehearsal clothes. Any of the heavy lifting was mostly John Caird's work." "And now he's not around." "Seems that way." "Shit."

"Any luck with liqueurs?" "Oh, right, sorry." Meat rooted around the fridge. "There's some yogurt, granola, and nuts in here, but I don't see any liqueur." "Well, we've basically got what we need. Look for any fruit or whipped cream for the toppings. I'll improvise on the rest." "What if we go French style with it? He's got some eggs, sugar, and syrup in here." "So yogurt, granola, and nuts with the puree, and some fruit and whipped cream on top?" "I think they'll be glad to eat anything." "Fair point. Hey, this was supposed to be a story meeting, right?" "Before things got derailed." "Yeah, but we only heard Crawford's notes on  _his_ character. What about what you and Kunze wanted?" "Well, we sat down at Pizza Hut a couple nights ago and compared all of the scripts: his, and the ones Jim did from May and August." "You mean the ones  _I_ did. You've seen his emails, he writes like an illiterate 12-year-old. He told me what to pick and I stuck it in Word and made it look nice." "Oh. He throw you anything for that?" Barry sniffed. "Are you kidding? He said I was his friend and thank you for doing it as a favor. _That_ was my payment." Somehow Meat wasn't surprised; Jim could be alternately generous or frugal with his friends, depending on the job.

"Well... we looked at the scripts. My copies are a mess, actually; I got pizza and bacon and egg all over 'em." "Can't be more of a mess than what I put into the computer. I'm surprised you guys _got_ anything out of the May draft." "Mainly the recitative. We talked about what we wanted to do with the book, and what Jim wanted to keep. And we came up with a list of points that we really think will sharpen things up." "How heavy are we talking?" "Actually, Michael was surprisingly okay with most of the major changes. He mainly wanted more music, about 30% less dialogue, and a new ending in exchange for keeping the new opening. He's willing to negotiate on the characters; he wants Alfred to be the focus, and to be somewhat more like he was in Vienna, but he doesn't have to be an outright coward. And we both want to simplify the staging in a few places; we can still keep the intent of what Jim wants, without going overboard." "What, a rocket coffin swinging like a pendulum was too much for you?"

They exchanged a laugh. "But honestly, that sounds good. I was worried you guys would come in saying ' _Tanz_ or nothing,' and he'd have another taking-his-ball-and-going-home moment. He really needs this to succeed," confided Barry. "Truthfully, I was a bit worried about his reaction too." "Naturally. It sounds like something they can really work with, though. You need me to help sell him on it? To the extent he listens to me, anyway?" Meat shrugged. "Can't hurt." "How does Kunze feel about losing so much of his version?" "I think he'll be happier if we get the changes we need. After our dissection of the show, he said to me, 'It may not be fully my show anymore, but I think if these points are satisfied, we've got a show for the young, like the following of _Rocky Horror_. I'm under no illusions about what will happen. No matter what form this show takes, the critics will still be out to drive a stake through it'--" "No pun intended." "He knows how conservative they can be. It was all I could do to get him to stop ranting about what he loathes in American musical theater: old-fashioned shows with brass bands and straw hats and show-boating choreography. But if this show is as good as he thinks it can be, the audiences will buy it, and it won't matter what they say."

"How specific are you in the notes?" "Tell ya the truth, we drew up an outline of what to pull from where, so if worse came to worse, Jim -- or someone -- could pull a glorified cut and paste job." "Where does David Ives fit into all this?" "Well, he did the concert stuff for Encores!, I figured he could do his old 'cut two-thirds and extract the essence' once we have a draft. Someone's got to kill the darlings, and you know Jim won't." "You _did_ notice his face hasn't changed expression the whole day, right? Hasn't said a thing or even emoted. He's used to a great deal of autonomy in how he works. People usually give him the freedom to add or delete stuff as he sees fit, it all comes from his mind first. Poor guy's been tugged at ever since he got involved in this project, with people telling him to change things, fighting for their vision to dominate, Jim most of all. He couldn't get a word in edgewise between all the talking heads battling over the number of fang jokes. After they finally put the August script to bed, he confided in me that he felt less like a writer than a stenographer. If you hand him these notes, he'll play the game as needed for promotional purposes, but he might well not touch another word of the script."

"So what do you suggest?" "Let's get a synopsis ready within the next few weeks; now that you've doled out homework, I think we'll be together again for another meeting about the state of the show. I'll help. If Ives reacts like I think he will, leave it to me; I've already been taking Jim's scratch drafts and notes and whipping them into shape his entire career. What's one more show?" "If you're gonna do that, you'll need to be paid. Even if Jim decides not to credit people, which would be so shocking..." A sarcastic giggle erupted from both of them. "...I'll make sure you're covered. Let's wait out this synopsis, and if Ives takes a walk, I'll start you at... $5,000 till the investors sign on?" Barry was quite excited at this news. "Holy shit! Thanks, Meat! I'm happy to be part of this thing, and I'll do what I can to make it great!" Meat beamed, and patted his shoulders.  _We may be down, but we're not out._


	9. February 2002: New Teammates, New Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With prodding from Meat Loaf, the story is agreed upon, to flesh out into a script that satisfies everybody, while Michael Crawford meets with deep pockets and active producers hoping to solicit interest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"For starters, we'll have the entire left half, plus two each of the chicken hash, Dover sole, and seafood salad." The waiter, who had seen some strange orders in his time (and from people who looked stranger than this guy in leather with long, shaggy gray hair), was surprised. "Excuse me, sir... the _entire_ left half of the menu?" "That's correct. And for the second course, I'll have another order of the roasted halibut and the filet mignon. What looks good to you guys?" A portly fellow who rather resembled an accountant ordered lobster bisque and the house salad to start, and a trio of gents, two of them bespectacled and one in a battered fedora, who looked like writers (after a while, in this city, it was easy to spot type) opted to share some Scottish smoked salmon. "And for dessert, sir?" inquired the waiter, returning his attention to the leather-clad eccentric. "Well, why don't you bring us some New York cheesecake. And, heck, how about an order of the chocolate opera cake? And profiteroles. For everyone to share." The table laughed at what must have been the incredulous expression that crossed his face as he tallied the entire order. "And... a round of fifty dollar Côtes du Rhône for all of us," added the heavyset guy, with a hint of Southern in his accent. "This'll be a long one." "Right away, sir!" exclaimed the waiter, as he set off calculating the size of what he hoped would be a massive tip in his head.

For Café Carlyle, a cabaret space housed within the hotel of the same name on the Upper East Side of NYC, this was an unusually large order. But to anyone who knew Jim Steinman well, this was just full proof of a remark Andrew Lloyd Webber once made about him: "He doesn't have an eating disorder -- he has an  _ordering_ disorder." A disorder indeed, one that frequently left Jim's manager smiting his own forehead so hard it turned purple. Everybody presented and accounted for, and ordering out of the way, now everyone could turn to the business at hand: the new script for  _Dance of the Vampires_.

"As I was telling Barry last time we met," Meat Loaf began, "Herr Kunze and I have put together a set of notes based on our careful study of the scripts in front of us. We think we can hash out each scene and get this thing rolling to everyone's satisfaction. I made copies for all of you." Here, a packet of stapled pages was handed out to everybody that didn't already have one. "Think of this as a story-boarding session. There was nothing completely objectionable about the stuff we actually want in any of these drafts; this is more about what to move where, the better to assemble into a working script. Once we've pulled all of that into place, David, we want you to start by looking at what we've put together and making suggestions for cuts."

David Ives ran a hand through his hair. "Looking at this list, I'm already developing some ideas." "Good, I'm glad to hear that," replied Meat. "Barry, you're taking notes?" "You bet." "Then let's begin at the very beginning: there was basically nothing wrong with the Vienna version. Michael and I feel that a lot of stuff was changed for no real reason, and while we're okay with some of the changes, we'd like to take a step back on others and see if there's not some way to simplify things a bit. Sound fair, Jim?" "Fair is foul, and foul is fair." "...I'll take that as a 'yes'. Alright, let's start with the first story beat. Michael, if you will?"

Michael Kunze read from the paper in front of him: "Alfred, a student to the famous Professor Abronsius of Königsberg, accompanies him on an expedition to Transylvania. They have lost their way in the snow covered mountains." "Ah yes," interjected Jim. "Lost inside a blinding snowstorm, an innocent boy and a man of science... an unspoken certainty - where something is shattered, something is breaking through... then their suspicions are proven correct... the wilds of Transylvania... the shadow of a dark knight looms large..."

"...uh... right. So, basically, what we're looking for is a moment that sets up Alfred, the professor, and Transylvania. In the German show, that was the little prologue where Alfred finds him in a snow bank and carries him to the village. Aside from Michael's scratch copy, there's no scene exactly like that in the English drafts we have here. Refresh my memory, Barry: what was in those?" "In the May version, terminally lovesick student Alfred is having a Romeo/Rosaline moment; he's been rejected by his latest ex, and is attempting to kill himself... but with jokes in it, because this is a comedy... to the tune of the old prologue, when Abronsius shows up and tells him the university fired him when he was on the brink of great success, and now he and his prize pupil have a new mission ahead of them in Transylvania." "And in August?" "The focus instead is on Abronsius being fired, which we actually see, and then Alfred shows up in prize pupil mode, 'how dare they', yadda yadda, and Abronsius, inspired by his student's devotion, talks him into the Transylvanian excursion."

"Alright, we've established what we've got. What can we pull from that?" "I don't care for the suicide," Kunze volunteered. "It sets Alfred up as a joke; he is often the butt of the joke, but that means when he meets Sarah, we cannot take their love seriously." "Except it's not love, per se," responded Jim. "It's infatuation. Sheltered student meets vibrant teenage girl while she's taking a bath, pops a boner, becomes obsessed. As for her, she just wants an escape from the mundane. He's merely one possibility. Can you really call that _love_? That's why I initially wrote that scene, to signal to the audience that when it comes to love, this kid don't know what he's doin'. It's as old as Romeo, Juliet, and their six-person body count." "Well, Jim, there's a reason we came up with the firing, remember? Nobody liked the suicide angle," said Ives. "I think the solution we have here is to combine the two scenes: we start with Abronsius getting fired, and he immediately rushes to Alfred's student digs to give him the news. We play around with the dialogue a little, cut it together so that Alfred doesn't really get a word in edgewise. We establish he's passionate, if a little bumbling, but we let Abronsius do most of the talking. He's steam-rolling him, which is what the old Abronsius would do, right?" David looked to Kunze for reassurance. Kunze nodded, growing excited. "Then they set off to Transylvania, boom, we're into the next scene."

"Actually," said Meat, poking at his copy of the notes, "I noticed there was this stage direction of rousing, swirling music that's supposed to happen at the end of that scene. What if we put this before the overture?" Barry shrugged, replying, "It should run quick enough, and if it's an in-one, like in the May draft, then we can do the governors of the university in voice-over with spots on Abronsius and Alfred, and maybe a little set dressing, and then when the curtains open, we're in Transylvania." "Sounds like a scene!" Meat replied.

"Then where will the new prologue go?" Jim asked. "After this instead of before it?" "Honestly, Jimmy, I'm not that big a fan of it. It's a good scene, but this whole big entrance winds up looking like the cover of our album. People will talk." "The logic is sound, though; right at the beginning, you need the big horror scene, like when the shark attacks the girl in _Jaws_ , and then in the next scene everything is fine and you go on to tell the story. It's just like _Psycho_."

At this point, Meat and Barry rolled their eyes and stifled groans. They'd heard this speech before. Jim had seen  _Psycho_ 23 times; as far as he was concerned, if one was learning about film, they didn't have to go beyond _Psycho_ , because they could watch it a thousand times and find something new each time. Kunze and Ives, on the other hand, looked confused, which was just the opening Jim needed to go on about it at length. " _Psycho_ begins, if you watch it, with a long shot of Arizona, a satellite view of the whole state of Arizona, or at least the city of Phoenix. Long shot of the whole city. And then, the camera goes into one area. Then one block, and then one building, and then through the window of that building, to Janet Leigh and John Gavin in bed, nude, having sex. You start at an extreme distance, and it keeps getting closer and closer until it ends up where the story begins. If you start with Alfred and the professor, then zoom in on Sarah and the Count, and then push closer until you're in the village..."

Seeing their heads spinning, Meat put a halt to this free association ramble: "Jimmy, c'mon, I think they get it. Let's move on, shall we?" "Not until we determine what's going on with that scene." "Well, for starters, if we keep it after the overture, it's rather long at a time when we need to get the plot moving," Barry chimed in. "Jim, do you think we could speed things up if we cut 'Angels Arise'? I always liked that better for _Batman_ anyway." Jim mulled it over between bites of Dover sole. "We _could_ do that... ah, shit, but then we've got the overture and 'God Has Left the Building' virtually back to back, with the thinnest of scenes between them. It'll feel like two openings." "Honestly, after reading all of 'em, I feel like having Krolock come in that soon is a little much anyway," said Meat. "'Original Sin' worked where it was; besides, if I come in that soon, it's a good scene or two before I come in again. Fans might feel shortchanged." 

Jim's brow furrowed, but he also clearly understood Meat's point. "I feel like we have the same problem if we wait too long to put you in, but I suppose you're right. Okay. Much as I hate to do it, 86 the graveyard scene. Prologue with Alfred and professor, overture, and then..."

* * * * * * * *

Meanwhile, in Midtown, Michael Crawford was sitting down to dinner at Le Bernardin with his old pal Howard Stringer. They met long before Howard had become the entertainment mogul he was today, and any time they had a chance, they grabbed a bite at this French eatery. Who could argue with kindai maguro and Kobe beef? Enjoy the finer things as much as you can, Michael felt; if it may be the poorhouse tomorrow, at least you'll go well-fed. After pleasantries were exchanged, Howard had griped for a good hour or two about pressing issues at  work. Since becoming a Sony group executive officer three years prior, heading up all their American divisions (computers, electronics, music, film production, and financial holdings) had certainly been no picnic. Long-range goals of streamlining their electronics business were causing no end of woe.

By about the time the Kobe beef was hitting the table, they were joined for the evening by Bob Boyett, a TV producer (Michael vaguely remembered his involvement with  _Laverne & Shirley_ and  _Bosom Buddies_ ). "You know, he's in your field," Howard said, as a way to make small talk. "Which one?" asked Michael. "Theater. Tell him, Bob." "I've been moving into Broadway in kind of a big way. Last season, I brought six shows to town. I'm always in the market for something new. Right now, I'm trying to convince my friend Larry to dip his toe in the pond again. A couple of shows took the wind out of his sails; I keep telling him, out of ten shows, if you get two hits, they can pay for the next twenty." "If you don't mind my asking, Larry whom?" "Lawrence Horowitz. Exec producer, the  _Moment of Truth_ features. He's actually supposed to be with us tonight, he should be here in ten minutes."

 "Hey, you say you're looking for something new... Michael, aren't you doing a new show?" Howard asked. "Yes, actually I am, but we're having a rough go at the moment, I'm afraid," Michael replied. "Well, tell us about it, maybe Bob could be a match." Boyett made a face, as though he didn't exactly appreciate being volunteered, but nothing ventured, nothing gained; Michael answered. "It's _Dance of the Vampires_ , the new Jim Steinman musical?" "Huh... you know, I think I heard about that," Howard replied. "He's got some kind of vanity label at Sony -- Ravenous, I think it's called. Hasn't put out anything new lately..." "A _musical_ about _vampires_?" Bob asked, with a hint of skepticism in his voice. "How does _that_ work?" Just then, Lawrence Horowitz joined the table, around the same time as the main course was arriving. More pleasantries, and some discussion about Lawrence's resume. The guy was no slouch: producer of 30 TV movies (one of them Emmy-nominated), author of the book  _Taking Charge of Your Medical Fate_ , former staff director of the U.S. Senate Committee on Health, chief of staff to Ted Kennedy, trustee of two major college institutions, and now a two-time Broadway producer and Tony nominee ( _Electra_ ,  _It Ain't Nothin' But the Blues_ ). Theater really did make strange bedfellows.

It was Horowitz who brought up  _Vampires_ next. "Michael, how's your new show doing?" "Well, Larry, I was actually just asking him what it was about," interjected Bob. "It sounds an unlikely subject." "Eh, vampires aren't as far-fetched as you think... just look at the Stock Exchange." Hoary laughs all around on that one. "But seriously...  _Dance of the Vampires_... give us the lowdown." With any show in flux, one is never 100% sure how to describe it, but Crawford had played the game long enough to know just what might sell it: "Have you seen that Roman Polanski movie, _The Fearless Vampire Killers_? It's a musical adaptation of that, it has the characters and the story and the kind of humor of it. I like to call it a 'funny scare'... something that's a lot of fun, that is amazing rock 'n' roll music, but that is funny and also scary at the same time. Where you could have a really good time and yet you are spooked."

"Interesting."  _Uh-oh, that doesn't sound genuine._  "And who's doing the score again?" "Jim Steinman. He did Meat Loaf's  _Bat Out of Hell_ albums, he's worked with the likes of Bonnie Tyler, Air Supply, The Sisters of Mercy, Barry Manilow, Celine Dion, Boyzone..." "Doesn't he have a theater background too?" Boyett broke in: " _Footloose_ ,  _Whistle Down the Wind_ , and, like, three shows with the Shakespeare Festival in Joe Papp's day." " _Whistle Down the Wind_... isn't that the one where the hillbilly kids find a convict hiding in a barn and think he's Jesus? The hell was Webber thinking on that one?" "I gotta tell ya, Michael, this is sounding like a crazy mix: you, Polanski, Steinman... who's doing the book?" "...David Ives." "As in  _All in the Timing_ David Ives?" Michael was growing embarrassed at their ease in mocking the unlikely grouping, but could only think to respond truthfully: "Yes, I think that's the bloke."

The table was now openly laughing, at a volume that was causing other people eating in the restaurant to turn and look at them. "Crawford, how did you get roped into this? Next you're gonna tell me Meat Loaf's the lead!" "...well, actually..." "OH MY GOD! PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE KIDDING!" "Good Lord, what is _happening_ to theater these days? Meat Loaf and Michael Crawford do the Carpathians!" "You know what they should call it?  _Phantom Out of Hell_!" Howard couldn't hold back his grin, and the other two were on the verge of tears from chortling. By now, Michael had his back up a bit; he wasn't going to hang around in an unfriendly port. "Well, Howard, it was nice seeing you, and it was lovely meeting your friends, but I think I've got to run." Recovering enough from his laughter to keep from turning blue, Howard pleaded, "Oh, Michael, please... don't leave. Don't mistake these guys for unsympathetic. You've got to admit, it sounds a little nuts."

Finally, Crawford found his anger and erupted: "They voted it Musical of the Year in Germany! It's still running in Europe for a reason! Nobody goes through their career without a dud here and there, but it's got me and a multi-platinum-selling rock artist above the title, the source material is by an Oscar-winning director, and there are two Grammy-winning songwriters and the critics' darling of Off-Broadway attached. I  _think_ we're going to be just fine, thanks very much!" Everyone could see Michael's legendary temper was flaring up, so Bob decided to be the diplomatic one. "You know what? You're right. This behavior has been entirely disrespectful of us. You believe in it, who are we to judge? There are very few people willing to stand by their project like that. Shit, it reminds me of me." He sipped from his Courvoisier.

"Some people put up the money, get the credit, and run, but I went to all the meetings and learned, like it was grad school. Some people out in Hollywood find Broadway less cutthroat; I think it's more. I've dealt with unions all my life, but I do find Actors' Equity is _very_ restrictive to the creative process. It's like going to war... a trial by fire. You do this because you love it." Suddenly, as though inspired, he looked up, with a strange grin. "What the hell, I want in! I'd say it's only 20% different from the kind of producing I've done all my life. I've been preparing for this. A show as 'out there' as this sounds? I wanna see it just to believe it exists!" "...I'm in too," Horowitz added. "And you know who else would dig this? Barry and Bill." Crawford's face registered confusion. "Barry Diller and Bill Haber," Bob clarified. Crawford nodded; he was aware of these legends in the world of film production. "They're dipping their toe in the pond, they've got this thing called USA Ostar. They're developing that new Nora Ephron play, _Imaginary Friends_ , and they're responsible for that production of  _Noises Off_ everyone is raving about. I can't imagine what they'll think of a rock musical comedy about vampires, but it certainly won't be the strangest thing in their portfolio. Who else is producing?"

Crawford wondered to himself just how many shows started this way.

* * * * * * * *

_After dinner..._

**From** : Barry Keating <xxxxxxxxx@xxx.xxx>  
**Date** : Sun, 10 Feb 2002 12:30 AM (EST)  
**To** : Michael Aday <xxxxxx@xxxxxxxxx.xxx>; David Ives <xxxxxxxx@xxx.xxx>; Michael Kunze <xxxxxxxxxxxx@xxxxxxxxxxxx.xxxx>; Jim Steinman <xxxxxxxxxx@xxx.xxx>  
**Subject** : DANCE OF THE VAMPIRES - New Synopsis  
**Attachment** : DotV-10Feb02.doc

Hi everyone!

I'm excited that we covered so much ground tonight, so I whipped up a quickie synopsis based on the notes we all came up with. I especially like the fact that moving the Heidelberg scene to the opening of the show reorients the focus onto Alfred, and also that we agreed cutting "Is Nothing Sacred" was best. (I'm sorry, Jim, but let's be real; it was slowing the show down and there simply was no way to make it work.) MC might be a little worried that it's "too much like _Phantom_ " to start with foreshadowing and then plunge in, but if Jim delivers the _Psycho_ speech again, we should be able to roll right past that.

Putting the script together should be a cinch considering what we were able to hash out. I think it'll be a hell of a working product.

\- Barry

Attachment:

> ACT ONE
> 
> Some time in the late 19th century, Professor Abronsius, a rather intensely wacky scholar, stands trial before the Governors of the University of Heidelberg. He has made a mockery of the school's good name with his "ridiculous writings and insane theories," insisting that he can prove vampires (and other supernatural creatures) actually do exist. For this "crime against science," he is sent packing by his colleagues. His assistant Alfred, handsome if sweetly dim, with an ardent and Byronic underbelly, resolutely stands by his mentor and guide. Now gifted with - however unwelcome – free time, they set off on an excursion, hoping to prove the professor's theory correct ( _Overture_ ).
> 
> We are now in a remote Transylvanian village somewhere in the Carpathians. We meet the local innkeeper, Chagal, his long suffering wife, Rebecca, and his beautiful voluptuous chambermaid, Magda, whom he spends most of his free time lusting after, much to Rebecca's disdain. Together with the local villagers, they demonstrate that nothing perks up men like wine, women and song – and _Garlic_. Into the midst of the hustle and bustle burst two strangers, the first in twenty years: Abronsius and Alfred, who have nearly frozen to death in the nearby woods. Although the villagers deny any knowledge of vampires in the proximity, the professor cannot be fooled and becomes increasingly suspicious.
> 
> After exploring the rooms upstairs in which they are staying, Alfred meets Sarah, Chagal's beautiful teenage daughter. He is instantly smitten by her and vice versa, but having noticed the attraction between them, Chagal, very protective of his child, literally boards-up the door separating them ( _Don't Leave Daddy_ ). Since the budding passion of the young is highly flammable his solution proves to be as effective as spit on a forest fire. Unable to sleep, Alfred and Sarah sing of their newly awakened desire for each other ( _A Girl as Beautiful_ ), but they are not alone in their yearning: Chagal sneaks away from Rebecca – who swiftly knocks Abronsius on the noggin in a case of mistaken identity – to pay an unwelcome visit to Magda. For that matter, Alfred isn't the only one pursuing Sarah; the mesmerizing and extremely cool Count von Krolock appears out of the mist, an immortal suitor whose call she finds strangely irresistible. The Count introduces himself to Sarah in a most charming way, and sings to her seductively telling her of another world ( _Original Sin_ ). The lure of the night is strong, as is the promised deliverance from the mundane world she knows.
> 
> The next day, the idyll of a winter mid-afternoon ( _Everything's Fair_ ) is broken when Abronsius witnesses a small business exchange between Chagal and Koukol, a hideous hunchback who lives somewhere in the woods. He inquires about the odd fellow, but Chagal refuses to discuss the matter. This does not deter the professor. For every question there is an answer and no truth that defies understanding – or so he believes ( _Logic_ ).
> 
> But no law rules the human heart and desire is quite an immeasurable emotion. The Count returns to invite Sarah to a grand ball at his castle, offering her a chance to make her wildest dreams a reality, an opportunity to quench her thirst for more ( _Invitation to the Ball_ ). How can any small-time girl resist? Alfred also offers Sarah a way out: he begs her to run off and make a new start with him ( _Braver Than We Are_ ). Too little, too late. Unbeknownst to Alfred, Krolock has sent a gift for Sarah – a pair of red boots and a vision. Alfred leaves Sarah alone outside for a moment and she puts on the boots; she has a fantastic reverie about dancing with vampires ( _Red Boots Ballet_ ) and can no longer control herself, try though she might ( _Say a Prayer_ ).
> 
> Torn between Alfred and the Count, Sarah runs off to Krolock's castle, pursued by Chagal, who is in turn pursued by Rebecca and Magda who are concerned for his safety, who are in turn followed by Alfred and Abronsius, reasoning that they will be shown the way to his lair. At the giant castle in the woods, they are greeted by watchful eyes in the darkness ( _Something to Kill (Our Time)_ ), and by the mysterious Krolock and his flamboyant son, Herbert, who is instantly attracted to Alfred ( _Bless the Night_ ). In the same breath, Krolock taunts Alfred and invites the two men into his domain ( _Come With Me_ ) and the two reluctantly accept his invitation.
> 
> ACT TWO
> 
> In the great hall of the castle, Sarah reconciles what was once just a fantasy with her new reality, seduced by and embracing her inevitable indoctrination to this family ( _Vampires in Love (Total Eclipse of the Heart)_ ). Sarah is entranced as Krolock makes his way down the staircase toward her. What has long been just a notion inside her is now a man before her. She willingly offers him her throat, although he resists the urge to bite her there and then.
> 
> Meanwhile, given a room, Abronsius sleeps soundly while Alfred is tormented by a nightmare ( _Carpe Noctem_ ) that is a peculiar reflection of reality. In the dream he is a creature of the night. The following morning Alfred bravely swears that above fear and beyond doubt he will stay there in the hope of saving her ( _For Sarah_ ).
> 
> But Abronsius is more concerned with capturing the Count and his son as specimens to prove his theory. Alfred and the professor make their way to the crypt, hoping to locate the two vampires, but instead they encounter the freshly dead Chagal. Before Abronsius can think of something else, Alfred hears what he believes to be Sarah singing and the hapless duo flee the crypt just as Rebecca and Magda arrive. Encountering Chagal's bitten body, Rebecca grieves while Magda gloats ( _Death Is Such an Odd Thing_ ). In death she finds him to be far more bearable than in life. Chagal wakes-up and bites them both.
> 
> Truly, love is in the air. As Chagal cements his eternity with the women he loves in tow, Alfred has a close encounter with Herbert, who has set his sights on him. The smitten Herbert waltzes with an unwilling Alfred singing a song of love and longing ( _When Love Is Inside You_ ). Herbert's attempt to draw blood from the young man is thwarted by quick thinking, but to add insult to injury, Alfred then finds Sarah bathing in preparation of that evening's ball. He begs her to flee with him, but his plea falls on deaf ears – she is dying to go.
> 
> Meanwhile, Abronsius' search through the castle has taken him to the library, which he enthusiastically discovers is stocked with every book ever written ( _Books, Books_ ). The Count, who initially pretends admiration for the professor and offers him eternal life, confronts him, taking the opportunity to boast that the battle for Alfred's soul is already complete and that he is the victor.
> 
> To his horror, Abronsius, joined by Alfred, watches as, in throngs, the vampires crawl from their coffins, cursing the redundancy of their existence and eager to devour ( _Eternity_ ). At the same moment, stung by Abronsius' rejection, Count von Krolock laments the truth of his being ( _Confession of a Vampire_ ) and makes a bleak prediction: before the turn of the next millennium mankind, overcome by greed, will know only one god – the god of appetite.
> 
> Speaking of appetite, the moment has arrived! The Count and his brethren are eager to proceed ( _The Ball: Never Be Enough_ ). Sarah is presented while a disguised professor and Alfred wait for an opportunity to rescue her – a chance that unfortunately comes only after she is willfully and gloriously bitten. In the midst of the climactic vampire dance ( _The Minuet_ ), they take hold of Sarah and run.
> 
> Stopping in the woods to rest, Alfred once more professes his love to Sarah and the two lovers embrace, singing of their born-again freedom ( _Braver Than We Are (Reprise)_ ). He believes all is well until the second she sinks her teeth into his neck. Once bitten the couple takes off to begin a life that will know no end. Meanwhile, oblivious to what is happening around him, Professor Abronsius revels over the information he has unearthed about the existence of vampires, unaware that their numbers have grown. As the Reign of the Undead begins, everybody somehow manages to find happiness... Transylvania-style ( _The Dance of the Vampires_ ).

 


	10. March 2002: Ducks in a Row

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strategy, strategy, strategy...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

" _USA Ostar Theatricals, Robert Boyett Theatricals and Lawrence Horowitz have joined David Sonenberg and Andrew Braunsberg as producing partners on **Dance of the Vampires**._

_Barry Diller and Bill Haber's USA Ostar is currently repped on Broadway with the revival of **Noises Off**. Horowitz, exec producer of TV's **A Moment of Truth** movies, had been a producer on the Broadway productions of **Electra** and **It Ain't Nothin' but the Blues**._

_Boyett made his Broadway producer debut last autumn with **Hedda Gabler** and has also invested in **The Crucible** , **Sweet Smell of Success** and **Topdog/Underdog**. The veteran TV producer brought **Laverne & Shirley** and **Bosom Buddies** , among other shows, to the tube._

_**Dance of the Vampires** is based on Roman Polanski's 1967 film **The Fearless Vampire Killers**. After a long run in Vienna, the musical by composer Jim Steinman and lyricist-book writer Michael Kunze was originally announced to open last fall at the Minskoff Theater. After the events of Sept. 11, it was pushed back a full year..._"

\- Robert Hofler, excerpt from "[Three put up stakes for B'way 'Vampires'](https://variety.com/2002/legit/news/three-put-up-stakes-for-b-way-vampires-1117860706/)," Variety, February 13, 2002

* * * * * * * *

83 Riverside Drive is a five-story building. Originally set up for two units, it now served as the townhouse for one David Alan Sonenberg, tennis enthusiast, father of two, Harvard Law grad, licensed attorney, and major music manager. Today, it was occupied by both a current and a former client, arguing over the best places to cop dope and barbecue chicken before the meeting was called to order. He had to admit, the thought of Jim Steinman and Meat Loaf working together again didn't quite fill him with outright displeasure; it was a natural pairing. Almost every Meat record except the  _Bat Out of Hell_ installments lost money -- even milking old themes, they were far better off together than apart, who cared if Steinman required a bag of weed for every part of the recording process. The problem was, that opportunity only came once every 20 years, and every time the two came up with aces, they lost it all again and returned to being down-on-their-luck gamblers. Mostly metaphorically, though money _did_ slip through Jim's fingers like water. (Dammit, now Kenny Rogers was stuck in his head: "...know when to fold 'em... know when to walk away...") He was forced to admit to himself that he doubted Jim could gamble for much longer.  _Before another 20 years goes by, he'll probably be dead from drug complications if he keeps chasing green with white. He's not a fucking kid anymore._

If it wasn't drugs, it would be the agita from finally mounting his first Broadway musical... and that thought brought Sonenberg back to the present moment, as Meat Loaf seemed to be proposing a toast with his bottle of Corona. "Well, fellas, where there were two producers, now there are five, and we haven't even finished shaking down every lead yet. Pass me that rib, wouldja, Jimmy?" Between bites, Meat continued, "Have you talked to Jerry Weintraub yet, David?" "I did, Meat. He's... gun-shy; he did three shows on Broadway, two of which were flops, the other being a limited concert run of Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, and Count Basie. His batting average isn't the best, and it's not what he does. He also recognizes the huge risk."

Meat wiped his mouth and hands. "Do you think a little pushing will do the job?" Sonenberg shrugged. "Well, he agrees with every producer we've talked to so far: as far as he's concerned, Jim's always belonged on Broadway, the way his music sounds. And his grand-kids are fans of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ , so I'm working the 'produce something _they'd_ want to see' angle." "Fair enough, do the best you can," Meat replied. "Don't I always?" "Of course, that's why this townhouse belongs to you and not me." Sonenberg rolled his eyes. "Keep carrying that cross, Meat. It's a wonder if it'll hold you once you're nailed up." Seeking to change the subject swiftly, David turned to Jim. "What about Leonard Soloway? Is he interested?"

"Barry talked to him to get a bead on what he's been doing lately," Jim said, odd crumbs and barbecue sauce flying out here and there. "He just got off a show with Renee Taylor and Joe Bologna." Everyone cringed. "Jesus Christ, that monster is still alive?" "Yeah, and she doesn't have playing Fran Drescher's mom to pay the bills anymore, not that she could act to save her own tuchus. Apparently as of their last gig, she's trying to reinvent herself as some sort of éminence grise." "Does it stick?" "Like shit to a blanket, if ticket sales are anything to go by. God help us all."

"Jimmy, Leonard... what's he doing next? Is he interested?" asked Meat, trying to steer things back on topic. "He's got two general management gigs lined up, but otherwise nothing coming down the pike. He's interested, and willing to put it on the dotted line to boot, but what he can bring to the table is limited." Quite pleased, Meat replied, "That still puts the count at six producers!" Sonenberg smiled wanly. "Look, Meat, your enthusiasm is appreciated, but we need more than six. The economy's not doing so well. It's taking more and more people to raise infinitesimal amounts for a show. I hear  _Hairspray_ is gonna be lucky if they come into town with half the money they need." "Okay, well, how about the Weisslers? Has anyone talked to them?"

Sonenberg shook his head no. "They've got a bad reputation. Cheaper than free lunch. There's a reason _Chicago_ runs and runs." Jim responded, "Be that as it may, I sent Barry to talk to them too." At that, Sonenberg nearly choked on his food. "You  _what_?!" "Save your breath, David. Sight unseen, they can't tell us they're interested. They want another workshop. I don't suppose we have the money for that?" David shot him a deadpan stare. "What do _you_ think, Jim?" "At this point, I think I want to hear how Meat's done with Michael Cohl before I shit the bed entirely."

"Well, fellas... there's not much to tell." Meat sighed, in evident exasperation. "I had the right instinct, he _is_ interested in dipping his toes in the pool. Problem is, another gentleman caller beat us to his debutante ball. Andrew Lloyd Webber's producing some Bollywood musical,  _Bombay Dreams_ , in the West End, and Lefty's gonna help steer it into midtown within the next couple years." "Lefty?" "That's his nickname." "Well, did anyone tell 'Lefty'  _Bombay Dreams_ is a longer shot than  _our_ show?" Jim groused. "Who the fuck knows what Bollywood is in America outside of the industry anyway?" "Well, no, Jim, I didn't want to offend the guy before we got out of the gate. Besides, as you point out, Bollywood's not really a thing here, they've gotta do rewrites to make it clearer for American audiences; it'll probably take a while. I think we can still land him in the meantime. But I also think the Weisslers _do_ have a point."

"How do you figure?" Meat threw away his plate and washed his hands. Hollering over the sound of the sink, he replied, "I ran into Ron Jeremy recently." "The porn star?" Sonenberg queried, with a tone of slight surprise. "No, the hat check girl at Caesar's. Of course the porn star. And he was telling me about how frustrated he is with suits." "Well, sure, he spends most of his time getting _out_ of clothes for money," snapped Jim. "You know what I meant, now listen! He was complaining to me about how Hollywood executives are blithering idiots, they spend millions of dollars making pilots to see how a project is going to look like there isn't a creative bone in their skull." "Tell me something I _don't_ know," Jim grumbled under his breath. "Shut up, Jim, I feel like for once Meat's going somewhere," Sonenberg shot back.

"They green-light all these pilots that never get made into TV shows, like they can't spot a failure from the beginning. He told me about a mainstream gig he just did; he was in a pilot at NBC for Aaron Spelling and Roger Avary, directed by Peter O'Fallon. It was a really big project, very exciting. Ron was up for a recurring role." "So what happened?" "NBC rejected it. 'Too gritty.' They hired the writer of  _Pulp Fiction_ , the director of _Suicide Kings_ , and Ron Jeremy, and saw no sign whatsoever that this might be too gritty for prime-time. Total lack of foresight."

Jim, impatient, jumped back into the conversation: "So what's your point?" "My point is, the last time anyone saw _Vampires_  was the reading or the workshop; both of those were almost a year ago. People are tentative because we're relying on their imagination, and that takes up the last brain cells they have left. I think we might have to do a workshop, or at least a concert of selections from the score or something. We need to show them the progress we've made, convince them materially that we have a show here." "Who's gonna pay for it, Meat? You?" Sonenberg replied, skeptically.

Meat thought for a moment. "Okay, let's say it's a concert. We get a barter deal with some 500-seat club in the city; they keep the food and liquor, we keep the gate. I did that back in the Eighties when I had no management just before Jim and I got back together. That gets us the venue. Now, for the show... just a handful of songs, not the whole works; enough to follow the story and make it clear. Small band, maybe six to eight guys, and we'll have Bova program the keyboards so Jim gets all the sounds he wants. Hell, I'll go you one better; _my_ band is sitting in dry dock. I put the Neverland Express in for this, and my management pays them like we would on the road. We won't need a huge cast: a girl to play Sarah, a kid for Alfred, me, Michael; I'll have Patti and Pearl do Rebecca and Magda if those songs make the cut. We'll book whoever played Chagal in the workshop again if we need him... or we'll hire someone, whatever. And anyone in the band who sings backup for me besides the girls can fill in any villagers or vampires we need."

Jim began to catch on to the idea, albeit not without his trademark sarcasm. "Alright. Let's say we do this concert. Can I be trusted to direct it?" "...actually, yeah. Shit, it's just a concert, right? We get Ives and Kunze to go over the book, edit it down to whatever connective tissue we absolutely need; you and Barry pick the songs. Then we'll hold some quick open calls and follow your cue." "So where are we hosting this shindig?" asked Sonenberg. After a moment's thought, Meat replied, "We'll book Don't Tell Mama or Joe's Pub, maybe. Either way, we invite everybody in town to see it, it helps build buzz, maybe it draws some investors and helps solidify our connections with the producers on deck." Sonenberg raised a finger: "Not if we're using  _your_ band. Last I checked, not counting Patti and Pearl, you've got at least four or five people in your group. We'll need bigger spaces than Mama or Joe's; they're basically glorified piano bars. And that still doesn't solve the problem of who's going to pay for this."

They sat in silence for a while until Jim suddenly perked up. "Believe it or not, I think I've got an idea," he said. "David, remember that clipping service we had until you decided it was an unnecessary expense?" "Yeah, the one that sent me every mention of you... once every five to ten years." "Getting away from the point, David -- remember that interview with  _Q_ I told you about? The one I found amusing as hell?" Sonenberg immediately shot up from his chair. "Jim,  _no_!" "What? Why the hell not?? It's not like she's putting his money to any better use. She probably needs some positive coverage right now anyway. Besides, she'd be into it! She called me God. She said I was beyond Wagner, that I was Einstein. We catch her at the right time, maybe we at least get money for the club booking and we don't have to let word get out that we did a barter to save cash." Meat, confused, looked from one to the other, not saying anything until he could figure out who the hell "she" was and why David was reacting to this idea with such scorn. "It's  _one_ meeting, David. What does it hurt?" "...well, as I learned with the Weisslers, I suppose you're gonna look into it anyway if you think it's worth a try. Why bother kvetching? But let it be noted I strenuously object." "So noted. Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I'll be in the toilet." And off Jim went.

"He wants to take advantage of a smack addict to pay for a club date, it's on him when it goes to pot," Sonenberg grumbled to himself. Now Meat was _really_ concerned. "David, all this 'she' shit, and now I'm hearing the words 'smack addict'... who  _is_ 'she'?" "Let me tell you a little story, Meat: once upon a time, someone interviewed  _Courtney Love_ when she was on a Steinman kick..."

* * * * * * * *

A few days later, in another part of town, not very far from Washington Square Park, David Ives and Michael Kunze convened at Barry Keating's walk-up to put together the "concert edition" of  _Vampires_. It was a small apartment in an old tenement building with no elevator; the last few flights to his unit felt like climbing a ladder. The humble domicile was particularly humble; like something out of a museum or history book, there was still a bath tub in the kitchen, over which a board had been placed to serve as a makeshift table upon which to do business. They'd all heard about Jim's gambit. Whether or not Kurt Cobain's widow would actually throw money at a concert remained to be seen, but Meat's point about putting together a representation of the show was well-made, so better to be prepared than not.

Ives was the one to voice what he and Kunze felt when they arrived: "Barry, I don't mean to be rude about your home, but... the place is a pit. That wall over there looks like it's made out of shoe boxes. You've worked with Jim _forever_. The guy's sold at least 50 million records. Doesn't he pay you for this stuff? Couldn't you get a better place?" Keating laughed, with a wry smile. "You kidding? Steinman never gives people _credit_. Why would he start _paying_? You wanna know what he ever gave me?" He pointed over at the ancient wood-paneled television. "He gave me that for years of dedicated service. Image is in black and white, when it works." Kunze shook his head. He'd begun to suspect how parsimonious Jim could be, but this was shitty even for him. In Vienna, Barry had been a near-constant presence, taking notes, offering suggestions, everything but tucking Jim in at night (or so it seemed); he'd been puzzled when he didn't see Barry's name in the programme. Now, having almost been sidelined from his own show, he was all too aware of how this man operated.

"Anyway, enough about my plight. I'm used to it. It's time for _Vampires_ lite. What are we thinking to start off with?" Kunze opened a fresh legal pad and clicked his ballpoint pen. "If I may... we released a CD from Vienna with only highlights from the score. Might that be a place to start?" "Actually, I brought along  _my_ copy," David said, producing one from the shopping bag he carried with him. "Jim gave me this when I started on the show. He said it would serve well enough to acquaint me with--" He suddenly stopped speaking, with some temerity, as though he had caught himself before crossing a line. "Go ahead," said Kunze. "I believe a few of us are in the same unfortunate boat here. I will not hold it against you." "...with what he was going to keep," Ives continued haltingly. An uncomfortable silence settled on the room momentarily.

"Can I glance at the track list for a second?" asked Barry. David handed over the CD. Keating read over the back cover at a glance. "...Well, after that synopsis we put together, this is more or less the score as it now stands. Only thing missing is that the argument between Krolock and the professor is dialogue now, so we can lose that bit, or maybe I make a note that we include that music as underscoring; Rink still has all the tracks, we can do a cut with the vocals wiped. If we use a bit of that scene, it'd help make the moment a lot more stirring. As for the rest, I'm sure we made edits within the songs to fit them on a single CD, so we could give it a listen and note what those cuts are. We could also pull from the rough sampler." Kunze and Ives exchanged looks of confusion. "Sampler?" "Oh, of course he didn't tell you, why would he. Sonenberg was looking for some sort of promotional tool he could give to potential investors a while back, and he asked Jim and Rink to cut together a very brief sampler of the demos we did with the English lyrics. We'll give that a listen as well, maybe it can give us a clue for some more cuts. I have it here some place."

Fishing around in a pile of papers, Barry found a CD sleeve. "Ah yes, here we are. Michael, you might've heard some of these; Steve's on all of the Krolock stuff." "Is he?" Kunze said with quiet amazement. "Mein Gott... we lost a good man when we lost him." He sighed, then smiled sadly. "You know what's strange? He wasn't even my first choice. I wanted more of a rock and roll singer, but Jim insisted he was perfect. Once he was in the role, I saw how right he was. As a rule I do not play favorites, but he was a brilliant performer."

Ives was sympathetic, but all business. Time was flying, after all. "Well, before we trip down memory lane, let's work out an opening announcement. We've got to set the tone of the show, and let people know it's not the whole thing. Do we have a narrator to link bits of the plot? How do we work this?" "Do we use anything from the May script's announcement? It  _is_ just a concert." "What was it, I've tried to block most of that from my memory," asked Kunze. "Not even a quart of straight gin could erase it from mine," Barry answered, before reciting as if from memory: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to _Dance of the Vampires_. Will you please take this moment to turn off all cell phones, cellophane candies, pagers, beepers, hair dryers, marital aids and walkmen. The producers would also like to assure you: Not one vampire was harmed in the making of this musical. Thank you."

The cringe traveled all the way around the 'table,' before Ives piped up: "Well, actually, the first and last lines aren't  _so_ bad. The ending's a cheap laugh, but it's a laugh, and it sets up some of what we'll expect from the show. It's the middle that kills it." "So take out the jokes, what are we left with? 'Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to  _Vampires_ , turn off your cell phones and pagers, not one vampire was harmed,' and out? That's still kind of lame." "So add in more info... is Meat using his band?" "He says he is." "Alright, so work them into it. How about..." Ives puzzled for a moment, then began speaking, rapid-fire: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to  _Dance of the Vampires_. You're in for a spectacular roller-coaster ride, twisting and turning from romance to comedy to Gothic fantasy, all set against explosive dance and an opulent score by Jim Steinman." "Good start... buff it up with some of his accomplishments, the name doesn't mean anything without the resume. Much to his chagrin, I might add." "By... uh... okay, hang on... by... GOT IT! '...by the Grammy-winning, multi-platinum composer Jim Steinman.'" "It works. Okay, what's next?" "I was thinking cell phones and pagers warning, and then a mention of the band?" "...maybe it should have a sentence or so in there about the plot."

The two turned to Kunze. "What? You're both on the roll. Why are you looking at me?" "You're the head author," Keating replied. "If you can't summarize the plot in a sentence..." "Alright, point taken. I shall try." He searched his thoughts for the right words. " _Dance of the Vampires_ is... a fairy tale, about a charismatic vampire." "...that's it?" "You asked me for a sentence! It's a sentence! The show is similar enough to Vienna, but a lot has changed. I don't know what to accentuate!" Game to help, Ives jumped in: "Well, 'fairy tale' is the right phrase. But we're talking about a rather adult rock and roll musical. We can't just say 'fairy tale' or they'll expect, at most,  _Into the Woods_. How about calling it... a  _hot-wired_ fairy tale?" Keating grew excited: "Oooh, Jim likes phrases like that! Okay, so... 'Ladies and gents, welcome to _Vampires_ , it's a cool show, Steinman wrote it and he's important so listen, hot-wired fairy tale about a charismatic vampire'... we can expand on that a little bit, don't you think? Now, do we emphasize Sarah or Alfred?" "Both, I would say," Kunze replied. "Both. ...' _Dance of the Vampires_ is a hot-wired fairy tale in which a charismatic vampire, Count von Krolock, jousts with a timid young student for the body and soul of a beautiful young woman.'"

"Maybe we should say more about Sarah's character. She's not just young and beautiful. We might get crap from the 'girl power' crowd." "She cannot choose between the two of them," Kunze interjected. "Shall we make mention of that?" "No, that makes it about the guys. She's more than just an eligible bachelorette with two suitors." "...that's it," interrupted Keating. "More. She wants more. It's typical Jim imagery, too! '...a beautiful young woman who only knows that she wants... more!' Herr Kunze, you've been taking notes, can you read that back for us?"

Kunze adjusted his glasses and lifted the pad, the better to read it. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to  _Dance of the Vampires_. You're in for a spectacular roller-coaster ride, twisting and turning from romance to comedy to Gothic fantasy, all set against explosive dance and an opulent score by the Grammy-winning, multi-platinum composer Jim Steinman.  _Dance of the Vampires_  is a hot-wired fairy tale in which a charismatic vampire, Count von Krolock, jousts with a timid young student for the body and soul of a beautiful young woman who only knows that she wants... more!"

Ives and Keating applauded, following which David took the initiative: "I think we've got a start, now let's wrap it up. 'The following is an evening of selected songs from the show. The music for  _Dance of the Vampires_ will be performed by the Meat Loaf band..." "The Neverland Express," corrected Barry. "...by the Neverland Express..." Ives trailed off. "What?" "Is there a band leader or musical director of some kind?" Keating searched his memory for a moment. "Yeah, that's Kasim. Kasim Sulton." "Okay, cool... 'by the Neverland Express, under the direction of Kasim Sulton.' Alright, we good?" "Cell phone rule, and the last line." "If I may," Kunze piped up, "I think I have found suitable locations for both. If you would like, I can read it all back." "Go for it."

Kunze read once again from his pad: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to  _Dance of the Vampires_. You're in for a spectacular roller-coaster ride, twisting and turning from romance to comedy to Gothic fantasy, all set against explosive dance and an opulent score by the Grammy-winning, multi-platinum composer Jim Steinman. (Here I add, 'With that in mind, will you please take this moment to turn off all cell phones and pagers.')  _Dance of the Vampires_  is a hot-wired fairy tale in which a charismatic vampire, Count von Krolock, jousts with a timid young student for the body and soul of a beautiful young woman who only knows that she wants... more! The following is an evening of selected songs from the show. (I add here, 'As you know, it is impossible to create an edit of a Jim Steinman song, but we have done our best to give you the gist.' Something like that will make people who know him laugh, I think.) The music for  _Dance of the Vampires_ will be performed by the Neverland Express, under the direction of Kasim Sulton. Thank you, and enjoy the show. (And here I would say, since you liked the final line before... 'Also, the producers would like to assure you: Not one vampire was harmed in the making of this musical.')"

Barry smiled at the two of them. "Gentlemen, I think we have a winner. Let's pop in the CD and start taking notes."


	11. Mid-March 2002: Black Widow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim Steinman pays a visit to an old friend in L.A. with special confectionery and a nervous manager, while a venue is selected and casting for the concert begins.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We all have our creature comforts -- things that provide us with consolation or a feeling of well-being. Comfort food is probably one of the biggest creature comforts there is. It varies from person to person; sometimes it's food that one associates with childhood or home cooking. Sometimes it's just a guilty pleasure, anything high in sugar or carbs. But there are a few people who aren't content to stop at Nutella and strawberries on French bread. People who get out the big guns. Whatever they put in their gaping maw may be thoroughly unhealthy, but if they feel good, that's what matters. And this was why Jim Steinman had a carry-on bag with a tin of spiced banana muffins in it. It was a compromise after Sonenberg had talked him out of his initial gift idea...

 _"What the fuck, Jim?! I know you're not thinking of smuggling **that** shit onto the plane!"_  
_"We need the money for the concert; we have to humor her **some** how. What's a little nose candy if it gets us the jack?"_  
_"Number one, they are searching everybody way more closely after 9/11, especially the freaks in leather. Number two, she's a **fucking junkie**! She'll probably be strung out as it is when we get there. Don't enable her!"_  
_"David, come on! We need the money!"_  
_"I didn't want to do this in the first place!"_  
_"Ah fuck, there's lumps in it. Do you think she has a grinder or a flour sifter?"_  
_"JIM!!!"_

Ultimately, he was thankful for David's advice. It was more fun to be creative. See, when Jim got creative, he liked to bake. (Or rather, he liked to supervise the person baking, usually with a copy of _High Times_ or _The Stoner's Cookbook_ in hand.) If she really _was_ trying to get clean, these muffins would do the trick for a little buzz or a lift if she needed one, and hopefully gratefulness would ensure the proper expression of gratitude -- a taste for a taste.

The best sources recommended 4-5 grams of "spice" per baked good, but experience told him that, especially if she really _wasn't_ doing hard shit, she'd be high for at least three days if he used that much. Way too intense; he wanted money, not a coma. But if you spread about 6-12 grams of spice between, say, 12-18 muffins, at 1 or less grams per serving, you'd get high as a kite the safe, sane way. Eat half a muffin, wait 30 minutes to an hour to see how it hits you, and have the other half a couple hours later, four at most. The effects would last six hours max, and be way more intense than a joint, but with much less ill health effects. And who's gonna question some muffins in a bag?

In the seat next to Jim, Sonenberg was doing his best to look collected, but inwardly, his nerves were frayed. He and his client were on a non-stop red-eye to L.A. with spiked muffins in a carry-on bag, getting ready to talk to none other than Courtney Love regarding the possibility of investing in the proposed concert presentation of _Dance of the Vampires_. No matter how much Jim had tried to convince him of the logic, this wasn't sitting well, and the presence of contraband inches away from him did nothing to curb his uneasiness. Plain and simple, this woman was a never-ending case of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory; a tornado of dysfunction was sure to follow wherever she went. For a moment, he flashed on the thought of her young daughter. _A dead dad and a mom who clearly refuses to get her shit together... poor kid. About the only advantage she has is the money._

"David, you seem tense. Why don't you try a muffin?" David cast a withering glance in Steinman's direction as he chuckled to himself. "Relax, we have an hour left of the flight. We'll be there in no time." "The flight time is not what I'm worried about, and you know it." Jim just gave a puppy dog stare. "David, this is a slam-dunk! We can get it easily!" he whined.

 _Oh Christ, he's doing **that** again. _When all else failed, Jim would complain, with the tone of a toddler who wants to stay up late. And much like parents who'd finally had enough of their kid's bullshit, people usually caved and he got his way. The fact that it was a proven tactic didn't help. He was having flashbacks to the recording of _Bat_ , when Jim kept badgering Todd Rundgren about wanting a motorcycle during the title song, persisting until Todd gave in and worked motorcycle sounds into his guitar solo, just to shut him up.

"Alright, look, so long as she coughs up the money, I'm fine with this little gambit of yours... on one condition. This investment is a one-time deal; it doesn't entitle her to a producer's share or credit, and we definitely don't want her doing publicity. It's not some angle for a news story, we just need a little flow. She's a silent partner, and that's non-negotiable." Jim glanced at David over his sunglasses, eyes narrowed. "Do you think I'd be approaching her if it required more than money? Hole's going down the shitter, Universal's up her ass, Dave Grohl keeps going for the jugular over whatever remnants Kurt left behind. Anything more active than endorsing a check is beyond her right now. Relax, o ye of little faith; I've got it under control."

* * * * * * * *

Meanwhile, on the ground in California, another discussion between talent and representation was underway. When the sun came up over Santa Monica Boulevard, as Sheryl Crow famously sang, it rose -- among other things -- on a branch of a nationwide steak house chain: The Palm, second home to many a music industry big shot when they were in town. People came for the gut-busting slabs of beef and home fries (when they were able to momentarily shed their inhibiting body consciousness), and they stayed for the business lunches that played such a large role in the life of Hollywood heavyweights. Locking horns today were Meat Loaf, between bites of whole lobster, and _his_ manager, Allen Kovac. Not the first time, and certainly not the last.

"It's out of the question, Allen. I'm not doing it." "I'm just saying, it'd spice up the evening a bit! You're there, the band's there, they already know the material. How about a nice surprise, a payoff for all the people who've supported you over the years? It's just three of your biggest songs, pick any three -- they can all be Jim's even. Makes sense, it's his night too. You do that as an encore for this thing, and I'm telling you, the suits will sign on the dotted line the fastest anyone ever has. When you're in good form, you make memories. It's just what this thing needs!" Meat pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting in vain to thwart off the headache threatening to consume him. "It's not _about_ me, Allen. It's about _the show_ , we're giving people a taste of _the show_. Me getting up there and busting out some of my hits is _not_ the show. If I go out there with that, it changes the tenor of the whole evening. It sends the wrong message entirely to the audience."

"The audience? Yeah, let's talk about that audience for a second. Do you _know_ who I've brought to the table?" "No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me." "Here's a hint: what do The Eagles, Journey, REO Speedwagon, Dan Fogelberg, Lindsey Buckingham, Jennifer Lopez, Christina Aguilera, and Sammy Hagar have in common?" "Soundtrack to my last root canal?" "Guess again. This person managed MCA in the Eighties, and founded his own label at Warner in the Nineties; he's still the biggest music manager in the industry today." As realization dawned on him, Meat dropped what he was eating on the table with a clatter. "...get the fuck outta here!" "I know, I was surprised he took my call. We never talk shop. He may be Satan, but there's a very good chance he'll be _our_ Satan."

"You're sure?  _Irving Azoff_ is coming?" "More than that. He's bringing some people from Concerts West.... you know, the crew that just spun an HBO concert special out of Britney Spears' last tour back in November? The ones with resumes stretching all the way back to Zeppelin, Hendrix, and 'The King' himself? That's the kind of street cred this show needs! You think they're coming to listen to  _new_ Steinman shit?! What else does this show have going for it? Do you really think people are gonna come for Michael fucking Crawford? That wimp smoothie whose last big show was ersatz Siegfried and Roy shit at the MGM Grand? He's in the 'Christmas carols and Disney covers' phase of his career. If anything, without you, the show is dead. It needs your audience to succeed!"

Meat swallowed, hard. "Okay, look, Allen... I've never doubted your instincts as a manager. You know that." Kovac snorted. "Yeah, never doubted my instincts except for every time you get a hair across your ass." "Dammit, listen to me. You need to either get on board with this process or get out of the fucking way! This isn't a tour to promote my next album or something. This is a _musical_. Musicals are a team effort; it takes a lot to get interest going in order to stage them. I can't push for something like this in good conscience, no matter if Christ Himself wants to hear it. I'm not just some promotional prop, and leaning on me only skews the project's focus; it'd be a big mistake."

A frosty silence descended upon the table. After a long moment, Kovac cleared his throat and unleashed a torrent of sarcasm. "Fine. Have it your way. Show looks like a smashing success -- other than still needing to secure capital, booking this so-called concert, and having to hustle to get the producers you've already signed and those you still need to convince on board, all your ducks seem to be in a row." To keep from saying something he'd regret in response, Meat chomped down on a forkful of lobster.

* * * * * * * *

"Sorry to keep you, guys. I've just had a lot on my mind." That faux-innocent, cigarette-stained voice was unmistakable in any environment. Jim and David rose to shake her hand, as decorum required, but Courtney Love, looking as much the worse for wear as ever, ignored this gesture, plopping into a swivel chair and propping her legs up on a desk. "So, Mr. Steinman, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" Sonenberg was the first to speak; if his sizing up had been anything to go by, getting to business right away would be important if they wanted to have any chance of closing this deal. "Ms. Love, I'm David Sonenberg, Jim's manager. We have a proposal that we think you'd be eager to get in on." Courtney took a long drag on her cancer stick, stubbing it out in an overflowing ashtray. "I've heard a little about this. Word on the street is you guys are doing a musical, and you need bread. I can't pretend any of that shit is normally my bag, but if Jim's involved, I'll hear you both out."

Jim took the initiative. "Well, for starters, I know what you're thinking when you hear the word 'musical.' I don't blame you for being skeptical. Here's what makes ours different: first of all, songs by yours truly, in my usual style, which I know you love so much." "Is there another 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' hidden under all that graying hair?" she teased. "I'll go you one better; that one's actually _in_ the show." "Aw shit... you've got me excited now..." Sensing genuine enthusiasm, Jim began amping up the pitch. "Secondly, it's not like any other Broadway musical out there; nothing small or domestic or boring or trite. It's a show about vampires, and it has everything -- sex, blood, action, romance, drama, comedy, all propelled by the score. It's a fuckin' thrill ride set to music."

"Is this just, like, vampires in general, or is it based on something?" "You ever see Polanski's _Fearless Vampire Killers_?" She blew a cloud of smoke into the room, followed by mildly wheezy laughter. "...fuck me, I'm ecstatic. So what do you need exactly? What are you asking me to pay for?" "You know what suits are like... putzes. No imagination. They want a sample." "So what, like a demo?" "Like a concert. Some songs from the show, a bit of the story to tie it together, and if they like the taste of that chocolate, we can give 'em a tour of the whole factory. Only problem is, there's not enough gas in the tank to get the car running just yet. We need a deposit for a venue, and we had a hunch you're the one who could help us out with that."

Courtney cleared her throat. "Well, before I hear anymore, I've gotta know... what's in the bag?" _Bingo._ "Just some schnecken to munch on... spiced banana muffins." "Spiced with what, exactly? You lived through the Eighties. Is it the kind of spice that, like, fueled your sessions?" "Only one way to find out. Tell you what, you look hungry; if you can excuse David and I for a minute or two to make a call, you can go to town. But if I may recommend the safest serving... half now, and the other half four hours later." "Why, sir, you know how to treat a lady! I tell ya, I said to myself, he's _gotta_ have some on him!"

* * * * * * * *

"Jimmy?"  
"Yeah, Meat, it's me."  
"What's the word?"  
"Well, I've got good news... call Ben Sprecher at the Little Shubert. We've got the bread."  
"HELL YEAH!"  
"Easy there, tiger. We've still got some casting to get through..."


	12. April 2002: Countdown to Concert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casting continues, Kovac kvetches, Meat's mortified, and a composer mysteriously checks out... (Use is made in this chapter of an actual article written by Cara Joy David for Broadway.com. It is loosely edited for story purposes, as mere use of legitimate chunks -- as in previous cases -- was not possible this time round.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

" _Broadway.com has learned that Max von Essen and Mandy Gonzalez are in negotiations to star opposite Meat Loaf and Michael Crawford in the forthcoming concert presentation of selections from Jim Steinman's **Dance of the Vampires** at the Little Shubert Theatre, a 499-seater on West 42nd Street between Ninth and Tenth Avenues. Roger Bart is also likely to appear in a supporting role._

_'I saw the show in Vienna,' von Essen told Broadway.com. 'The score is totally incredible. It's pop meets opera meets rock. I didn't understand a word of it over there, but I remember loving the music. My role, Alfred, is such a great role -- it's really made for me vocally and dramatically.'_

_Von Essen previously appeared on Broadway in the ensemble of **Jesus Christ Superstar**. He will likely be the only cast member remaining from the previous English language **Dance of the Vampires** workshop. (That workshop was helmed by John Caird and Steinman; the production is currently seeking a new director, while the concert will be 'supervised' by Steinman and associate Barry Keating.) Following the concert, von Essen can be seen as Freddy in the Paper Mill Playhouse production of **My Fair Lady** June 5 through July 21. 'I have been wanting to work at Paper Mill for years,' von Essen said. 'The roles [of Alfred and Freddy] are kind of similar. Freddy is a much smaller role, but he is young, lovesick and romantic, which is a lot like Alfred.'_

_Gonzalez is probably best known for her Obie Award-winning performance in last season's Off-Broadway production of **Eli's Comin'**. She is currently in the **Aida** ensemble and serves as a standby for the role of Amneris. In **Dance of the Vampires** , Gonzalez will play Sarah, a beautiful girl caught between her love of Alfred (von Essen) and her desire for Count Von Krolock (Loaf). 'She is amazing,' von Essen raved about his onstage love interest. 'In callbacks we were singing the duet together and my ears were ringing. She has one of the best voices I have ever heard.'_

_Bart, who will reportedly appear as Chagal, a role described in casting notices as a Jewish innkeeper who's "almost a parody of Tevye from **Fiddler on the Roof** ," is most known for originating the role of Carmen Ghia in Mel Brooks' smash hit **The Producers** , providing comic high points with his politically incorrect mincing and lisping as live-in lover to famed -- and richly effeminate -- director Roger DeBris. Previously, he won the 1999 Tony and Drama Desk Awards for Best Featured Actor in a Musical for his work as Snoopy in **You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown**. His other Broadway credits include **Triumph of Love** , **King David** and **Big River**._

_The rest of the cast will reportedly be filled out by ensemble yet to be announced and by members of Meat Loaf's band, The Neverland Express, which will also provide the evening's musical accompaniment._

_The Little Shubert opened in late 2000. It was built by the Shubert Organization, its first new construction since 1928, its first new Off-Broadway theatre ever, and, per chairman Gerald Schoenfeld, the first Off-Broadway theatre in New York to be built from the ground up using private funds (other theatres have been converted from existing performance spaces, or were built by not-for-profit groups using gifts, grants and/or government money). Architect Hugh Hardy's $12.5 million design, lavish by Off-Broadway standards, includes a 24' x 39' proscenium (as big as many Broadway houses, suitable for splashy, design-heavy musicals) and a 71' wide, 26' deep stage._

_The Little Shubert's opening production was the revue **Tommy Tune: White Tie and Tails** , which brought Tony Award winner Tune back to the New York stage for a limited run. Since then, the Little Shubert's dance card hasn't been very full. A spokesperson for the Shubert Organization stated, 'Unfortunately, the economics of commercial Off-Broadway theatre are very difficult at the present time.' Some have also suggested that producers consider The Little Shubert too far off the beaten track to gain sufficient attention for its tenants. _

_When approached for comment, however, **Vampires** producer Bob Boyett did not agree with this criticism: 'Playwrights Horizons has been next door for 25 years. Anyone ever had trouble finding them? We want to do this presentation at Little Shubert because it's a state-of-the-art theatre. It's got a stage that's essentially equivalent to a Broadway stage. It's unlike any other Off-Broadway house. We want to show the public what **Dance** might look like a few blocks down the road, and that's what this space can do. I have no idea why it's been underused. I think it's a tremendous loss to the theatre.'_

_**Dance of the Vampires** , featuring music and lyrics by Steinman and a book by David Ives, Steinman and Michael Kunze, tentatively plans to begin its Broadway run at the Minskoff Theatre on October 14._

_A spokesperson for the musical could not confirm any of this additional casting, or whether the performers would retain their roles when the show made its move. He said only: 'It's premature to comment on any casting beyond Meat Loaf and Michael Crawford at this time, and incredibly premature to comment on any casting for Broadway.'_ "

\- Cara Joy David, [fic-friendly version of] "[Cast of _Dance of the Vampires_ Shapes Up](http://www.jimsteinman.com/broadwayvamps.htm)," Broadway.com

* * * * * * * *

Meat Loaf opened his worn binder for the umpteenth time, glancing once more at the title page. His eyes glazed over as they traced the outlines of the title, writing credits, and other minutiae. All told, it had come in fairly tight... maybe a little over 80 minutes. This wasn't a vast improvement on its length in Vienna, but it was a start as far as the New York crowd was concerned. A little narration to convey plot elements, some funny lines here and there, some edited highlights of the score -- a representative sampling. It was the typical Jim Steinman shuffle, _Bat II_ all over again. First he recycles stuff that's either been lying around or, often, songs he's used elsewhere in another form, regurgitates the older material, then he writes three or four new songs, and that makes the project new. When he has the content down, then it's ready to roll.

Now, at least as far as Meat was concerned, the struggle began. A friend had once told him that he wasn't a singer; he was an actor who acted like he could sing. He considered it true enough, to the point that he joked to that effect in an interview once: "If you ask me who I really am, I probably don't know, because I'm always working on a character." He had even come up with specific characters, head-canon for each song:

  * "Bat Out of Hell," he associated with a nightmarish Rod Serling _Twilight Zone_ episode that had starred Jack Klugman, in which a space ship landing on Mars spotted another vehicle with an eerie resemblance to theirs crash-landed, the implication being that the protagonists are ghosts who refuse to believe they died attempting to complete their mission, stuck in a continual loop until they do. The character at the center of "Bat" unquestionably died (there was a crash and the guy's heart leaped out of his chest, for Christ's sake), but, perhaps for love of "the only thing in this whole world that's pure and good and right," he refused to believe it. He even had an image of him: a tall, dark-haired cross between Elvis, James Dean, and Clint Eastwood, lusting after a redhead in a dusty, gritty town in the Southwest.
  * "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" was another vicious circle, a New York episode of _The Honeymooners_ gone wrong, where Jackie Gleason and his big pop eyes evolved into Orson Welles after a decade's worth of fearful cries of "To the moon, Alice!"
  * "Heaven Can Wait" was a very old man in a white room, possibly a hospital room, maybe even dead already but accepting of his fate either way.
  * "Left in the Dark": a woman, actually.
  * And then there was his default stage persona... the beer-guzzling, rampaging, Ramada-Inn-demolishing, biker maniac, the goofy old Toho Studios Godzilla who might destroy Tokyo but he's always falling over, the wild man who had to be put back in his cage. Another ghost to add to the collection of perfect rock-and-roll characters.



But Count von Krolock was another story entirely. One thing was for certain -- he could not wrap his head around "Meat Loaf" (important to separate his stage self from at home) as the conventional Romanian count; indeed, he doubted _anyone_ could. Nobody would accept this old rock and roller that way. So where was he to begin the journey of building the character and discovering how the music fit?

He could see why his co-star Crawford had balked at the initial offer of Krolock; on a surface level, it _was_ rather dark and similar to _Phantom_. But there was more than met the eye. There had to be. Casual enthusiasts had always made the same remark to Meat back in his theater days, without fail, every time he told them that he was an actor: "Oh, you have to do the same thing every night!" (Often with faux-pity.) Well, he did and he didn't. Yes, he performed the same material, but he was having an exploration process every night. He could find new depth, or try a different take on things and discover something he never considered that kept it fresh for him, new "motivation," something fresh to "sink his teeth into." Crawford wasn't looking deep enough.  


Typical for Meat, he eschewed the notion of cover to cover when it came to initial exploration and opened at the close, with Krolock's final solo, "Confession of a Vampire." (The ball scene that followed had extras and others; this was the last moment the audience had alone with him.) Leaving aside obvious similarities to a tune he'd already recorded in the past, this song got to the core of Krolock: a big, long number about his life, about how he first became a vampire, about his first experience, and about how nothing would ever stop him. He was going to be eternal, and his appetite had to be fulfilled in order for him to survive. At his most basic, he was a killer, a fanged predator. But he had to make himself very attractive to pull in victims. Most people don't run _toward_ the monster when he attacks, after all. The perfect meal has to come to him willingly, the better to bend it to his will. So over time, he cultivated a chameleon-like, multi-faceted quality. Very handsome and sexy, but ultimately very cold. He's reeling this girl in, as a fisherman would say, but it's going to end in tears. For someone.

That was where he disagreed with Michael Kunze, though. The graying German author kept trying to impress upon Meat that Krolock was cut-and-dried, a bad person whose sole motivation was his next snack.

_"He has no feelings at all; the whole thing is a put-on, he's pretending to be more human than he is."_  
_"But does he at least love **her**?"_  
_" **Love** her? She's just dinner!"_

Krolock _was_ objectively bad, and there _was_ an element of pretense, but he didn't feel Krolock was totally heartless. That didn't make sense to him. What made more sense to Meat was that he _did_ still have human feelings and was a terrible person _anyway_. He felt miserable, regretful, because of what he destroyed along the path, but then the worst thing that could happen did: he became resigned to it. More than that, rather than truly seeking to put an end to the suffering he both felt and caused, his guilt turning into resignation twisted into the idea that he'd rather everyone be as bleak and hopeless as he was than try to make himself less so, until he was as stuck in the endless repetition of immortality as the other vampires in his graveyard.

Did this mean he was capable of loving Sarah? Maybe he did... this girl being young and naive didn't make her feelings about him any less genuine. Who was to say that her youth and exuberance didn't awaken some dormant, very real, human emotions in him? It wasn't that he _couldn't_ feel love. What made Krolock a bad person was that he _shut it out_ ; if he could accept that she might honestly grow to love him, and he could love her too, it'd weaken him too much. Better deliberately shut down his feelings and ignore his better nature! He thought of that line in the Coppola _Dracula_ movie: "I have crossed oceans of time for you." This was the antithesis -- the oceans of time had washed Krolock up in a place where he could be happy, but to him that was like being forced up shit creek without a paddle.

"Original Sin" added more layers to the notion that living forever wasn't at all light or sentimental. Say one became a vampire when they were young, as he felt Krolock had. What would be they like all these years later? In youth, one has a void they seek to fill with sensation and excitement and thrills, every second if they can. Everything feels life-or-death and urgent, primal and important. Now stretch that across, say, 80 years. Does one change at all? Do they become wise through experience, or stay young because they have a young soul, brain, and body? Perhaps they're exhausted from the constant search for new excitement, new thrills, and new ways to ignite passion. Maybe, if they do grow as people, they've been driven to the brink of insanity by their growing conscience. Physical appetite could be satiated, but what did _emotional_ non-fulfillment on a permanent level look like? How could it be conveyed?

Understanding why he said certain things, developing a walk, straightening out a line for the character from beginning to end... he couldn't wait to have a director, or at least his old pal running the concert, on hand to offer more insight. It was a bit hard shouldering this alone. _Goddammit, what has Jimmy got himself into now?_ After the happy news that Courtney Love, of all people, had financially secured their booking, nobody had heard from him in weeks. Had he "tied one on" to celebrate? Sonenberg and the rest of the inner circle told him they had no clue, meaning of course that either they hadn't seen him or were under instructions not to tell Meat what was going on. Even Barry, who could be expected to know what was up even though he was no longer constantly around Jim like the old days, hadn't heard from him.

He could hear Allen's sarcasm and chiding in his head already: _What, you're surprised? The unpredictable flake's an unpredictable flake after all? This is my shocked face_. It was one of the oldest and biggest causes of the "hate" in their love-hate relationship over the decades -- how Jim would suddenly make himself scarce at inopportune times, or abruptly change his mind about something he’d been deeply involved in, to the point of breaking contracts without regard to the after-effects. And that was _before_ he picked up certain vices. No matter how much he didn't want it to be true, it was the likeliest explanation. If he was really being honest with himself, he should've seen it coming.

_So what? Snap out of it. We've got work to do, with or without Jim._

* * * * * * * *

At The Little Shubert, preparations were in full swing. For the purposes of the concert, a simplistic space had been decided upon: a unit set (which, of course, meant it would stay on stage the whole time, with extras brought on or taken off as needed), totally exposed other than wing masking, with "orchestra" onstage. All production elements would be contained within the stage area from the outset and manipulated in full view of the audience as the show progressed. Sam Ellis, Meat and Jim's production manager in the good old bad old days of 11 months on the road promoting _Bat_ , had transitioned more fully in the decades since into production management and technical supervision on Broadway, so it was easy to coax him onto the _Vampires_ concert, the better to have a friend in their corner who could be trusted to deliver what they needed.

True to form, recycling ideas that seemed like good ones in the past, Jim had sent him a typewritten excerpt from an old _Dream Engine_ script: "...there is a large black disc in the center. It extends over almost the entire playing area. Up front, stage right and left are two elevated platforms. [...] songs are sung 'out of the action,' i.e. sung by SOLOISTS, like rock 'arias' on the platforms, while simultaneously on the disc, the strongly choreographed or 'directed' dances [...] are performed. [...] The BAND is on stage behind the disc. THEY are covered by a scrim in front. During the 'play' sections, THEY are not seen. But during the 'musical' sections, THEY are lighted from behind the scrim..."

After some discussion with Meat and the "writers' room at 44th and Carpathia" (David Ives' nickname for the ad-hoc team of himself, Barry, and Herr Kunze), it was decided to drop the giant round 'deck' and create something in the same vein, but a little simpler. The Neverland Express, set up according to their usual plot (minus mics for Patti and Pearl, who, as Rebecca and Magda respectively, would usually be downstage with the cast), would be upstage center, and there would be a platform behind them with two sets of stairs leading to ground level at either side of the band. The main action would occur downstage, but the platform would be used in certain scenes and choreography for dramatic effect. The cast themselves would do most of the set changes, as simple as they were, manipulating for example two door-frames that divided Alfred's and Sarah's rooms (which later served as bookcases in the castle library), an open coffin-like box used as a bathtub (or a coffin) in the relevant scenes, a closed box used as a bed/bench/etc., some pillows and blankets for set dressing, and so forth. This would enable the stage picture to transform fluidly without the need for elaborate set pieces.

While the "set," such as it was, was being constructed onstage at Little Shubert, Kasim Sulton was leading music rehearsal six minutes up the road at the New 42nd Street Studios, a 10-story complex opened a couple years back by a nonprofit established in 1990 to redevelop 42nd Street. They rented the 14 studios in the building on a sliding-scale basis; naturally, commercial producers paid more and nonprofits paid less. The cast had gathered and were kibbitzing, some glancing at their sheet music attempting to do a little "sight reading" and be ahead of the curve, while Kasim and two of the guys tested the sound in the room. Their job was to accompany, not overpower; to that end, Kasim had invited only Mark Alexander (keys) and John Miceli (drums) to this rehearsal. As anyone with even minor theater experience could tell you, as long as piano is there for the melody, and bass and drums supply the rhythm, you can "mark" until you've got a full band ready.

"Hey, Hammer, you done bangin' on those fuckin' things?" Kasim cracked good-naturedly. "I think the drums are as balanced as they're gonna get." "I've just been filling time, Kas; we've got to play together to get the rhythm established, no?" "Alright, what do you wanna play?" Mark chimed in: "It's been a bit since we've done 'Come Together,' that one's pretty spooky. Should put everybody in the right frame of mind." "Alright, but who's singing lead? You know Meat won't come in the room until we've got the sound down." Kasim pondered for a second, then spotted the new girl, Mandy Gonzalez, excitedly chatting with some people she presumably knew from other work. "Is that the girl playing Sarah?" Kasim pointed her out to Mark. "Yeah, I think so. They've been raving about her for a while." "Well, do you know this song in Ike and Tina's key? Let's see what we've got." He turned back to the crowd. "Mandy! Mandy, can you come here for a second, please?" She stepped forward. "This isn't anything from the show, we just wanna get the levels on this mic. We're doing that Beatles tune 'Come Together'; Mark, give her her first note, and then we'll get started."

Mark played a note. "Oh, so we're going the Tina route?" Mandy said. "I can do that, no problem." "Wait, we need a harmony... uh... Max, come up here! You two young lovebirds are gonna acquaint us with how you sound together. You game?" Max came up, and he and Mandy tried a few notes until they got the right blend. "You satisfied?" They nodded. Kasim counted off, and they were into the song. Like most performers, Kasim had mastered the ability to play through a song while his mind was on something else, and that ability served him well here. _Hot damn, she can **sing**! And he ain't so bad himself. Gotta be Jim's choices, no question. _He found at points he even had to back up from them because their voices were ringing in his head. They were just blending instantly. You don't find lungs like those very often in the rock world without a mic giving them a boost. This was Broadway at its finest.

In the back of the room, Meat and Michael Crawford quietly slipped in. "I say... got a voice on her, hasn't she?" Crawford stage whispered to Meat. "She's pretty good. I was thinking about the song, though. Y'know, I met John Lennon once. One time I had a meeting in Manhattan and I was early. There was a little coffee shop attached to the building, so I went in and sat down at the counter. There was an empty stool next to me and somebody sitting on the next stool over. I ordered a coffee. There was a little sugar thing in front of me, but I like my coffee with Sweet 'n' Low. I glanced over and saw the packets were in front of the other guy on the stool, so I didn't even look at him, just asked for 'em. He says, 'Yeah, sure, mate,' and passes it over. Sounded familiar, had an English accent. Took a quick look and, sure enough, it was John." "Did you talk to him?" "Hell no, I panicked. I used to dream about being signed by Apple and meeting him in his office."

Crawford's ego couldn't resist a little one-upmanship. "I worked with him once." "Really?" "Yeah, _How I Won the War_. Only time he ever made a movie where he didn't sing. We shared a house while we were filming in Spain actually. His wife Cynthia was with him some of the time, and Ringo and his wife decided to pop in while they were on vacation." "Oh yeah, wasn't he on the cover of _Rolling Stone_ for that?" "The first issue." "What was he like?" "Well... I can honestly say I hardly got to know him. It might have been because he was in the midst of world fame on a scale beyond our ken; or that he'd reached a point where he had nothing to give any more, outside the songs he continued to write and the friendships he shared with the tiny circle of people he knew well and trusted. But he never said anything that wasn't deeply serious. He wasn't the sharp bloke out of _Hard Day's Night_ when I knew him. Even his jokes were philosophically meaningful. When he spoke to you in that deep, nasal whine, it was always as if he were speaking from somewhere far off in his head. He wrote 'Strawberry Fields Forever' one day on the beach. You don't hear lyrics like those and not wonder what he was going through." Crawford ruefully smiled to himself. "I'm a little ashamed to say I pranked him one time. He didn't buy cigarettes, he'd hand-roll his own. They were gigantic." Meat chuckled to himself; he knew someone who didn't recognize a joint when he heard them. "Well, I doctored one with a mini-explosive; it was a war movie, we had tons of that on the set. He lit it and _phhhfffft!_ John just stared at me impassively. It was as if I'd just confirmed all his existential anxieties about the futility of existence. 'Piss off!' he grunted."

Their reverie was interrupted by the sound of Kasim on the mic, affecting a voice like a stewardess on a tannoy. "Testing, testing... this is Houston to Loaf! Come in, Loaf!" "What is it, Kas?" "The sound levels are more or less checked. You and Michael gonna be joining the rest of the class?" "If it's alright with you, teach." "Come on over then. I have your copies of the music. We're not doing any solos yet, but good to have extra ears to hear how it sounds. Alright, everyone, we've flexed our muscles on a song that's not from the show. We're gonna do that every day with a different lead singer; it gets boring to play the same music into the ground, and besides it gives me an idea who to pick for solo ensemble lines. Turn to 'Garlic' -- this is some intricate stuff, lots of duos, trios, ensembles; it's broken up into different groups. We're gonna play through each part, your section sings it back, and then we'll put it all together, okay?"

* * * * * * * *

In another part of town, a political summit of sorts was taking place. David Sonenberg and Allen Kovac were having a meeting of the minds about the VIP guest list for the forthcoming event. This concerned both potential producers that they needed to impress and any celebrity clients who might be inclined to show up, lend nominal support, and socialize with one another. At a deli on Bleecker Street, Kovac sipped espresso while Sonenberg consulted a pile of papers. "So, you can guarantee they're all going to be there?" David nodded. "Boyett, Horowitz, Soloway, Barry Diller, Bill Haber, are all a definite 'yes'. The Concerts West folks are sending a rep. Irv's coming, and he's bringing Don Henley and Joe Walsh to watch. Weintraub, I'm waiting to hear back from. Michael Cohl sends his apologies, but Mick's having a crisis with tour planning and he's handling it."

"Is anyone from Interscope coming?" "In a roundabout way. Iovine won't make it, but his ex will." "Wait, what ex? I thought he and Vicki were still married." "Stevie Nicks." "...really? She hard up for entertainment in the city?" "Never misses a show of Jim's. She's known him since the _Bad for Good_ days, when he and Iovine were thick as thieves." "Interesting." "The Weisslers are coming too, which is good seeing as it's for their benefit. And... I think that's about everyone on 'my' side of the table. What about you?"

Kovac took a deep breath, ready for the hard sell. "Well, David, as you know, I recently departed Left Bank to start my own firm, 10th Street Entertainment. I brought some of my artists over with me. We've kind of just gotten started, and I'd like to dip my toe in the water in a big way. I'd like to invite my roster, and I'd appreciate it if you could give 10th Street some above-the-title space. Sort of like a 'coming out' night. I mean, don't get me wrong, this is Meat's night, I'm not taking away from it, but he's one of many brands I represent. Besides, it's big publicity for the musical too, y'know... first rock musical since _Rent_ draws real rockers. Make it a real mother of a blow-out, show 'em how rock does Broadway."

Sonenberg's eyes narrowed. "We'll get to your bullshit request for billing in a minute, what clients do you have?" "Given the average age of the rest of the rockers, I figured I'd stick mostly to people who came up around the same time or before then: Yes, Motley Crue -- and in fairness to Nikki I'd have to include Brides of Destruction as well, Blondie. Maybe on the younger side I'd have Hanson, Ashba perhaps. It doesn't have to be _absolutely_ everybody, but enough to have a good showing for my launch." " _Your launch?_ Need I remind you, this is a workshop presentation of a Broadway musical, not an industry junket." "Hey, without my client, you wouldn't have a show." "Without _my_ client, you wouldn't even know _your_ client. This isn't going to be the first musical to have an intravenous users section on my watch!"

"Alright, alright, look. This is important to Meat, we don't need to play hard ball here. How about just the four?" "Which four?" "Yes, Crue, Brides, and Blondie." "...I can live with it, I suppose. But Debbie's gotta be on good behavior, I don't need her cruising for dick at this party. She made one of our married colleagues uncomfortable the last time we invited her out." "Oh, and James Michael, too." "Who's James Michael?" "He's a writer/producer I found a while back, he put out this solo album that was a one-man band kind of deal. Didn't make much of a splash, but it got him heard enough to be put into the stable of development for other performers. He's worked for a few artists and now I have him writing with Nikki." "Alright, why does _he_ have to come?" "Well, it's good for Nikki. A while back, he came to me and said Motley Crue was kind of stifling him, and he wanted to expand his profile outside the group. We had to face reality. I told Nikki the truth: out of all of Motley, you’re the least known. The guitar player was in all the guitar magazines, the drummer's been a celebrity for decades (mostly thanks to Pam, I know, quit snickering), and the singer is the frontman. We have to think creatively to get over that barrier. So I'm gonna have him write for some of my artists. He and James have already written some stuff for Meat's next album that I think is really gonna blow the roof off. Hopefully once the concert's over, we can get him in the studio."

Sonenberg paled. "What do you mean, 'once the concert's over'? He's got the full production of this thing coming up, you know as well as I do that's at least a month or two of rehearsals, then previews, and then a six-month commitment at least. When is he gonna find time to hit the studio?" "You're betting the farm on Meat continuing with the show to Broadway. You'll pardon me, but I don't share your confidence." "What are you trying to say?" "David, level with me: where's Jim?" Now Sonenberg broke into a cold sweat. "I haven't heard from him since we saw Courtney." "Look, you can lie to Meat Loaf better than anyone I know, but don't lie to me. Where's Jim? Is he stroked out in the fucking hospital again? Did he OD?"

Silence.

"Well, you didn't ask, but here's my advice on management. When I promote music by artists who behave in troubling ways, I work with those artists to help them help themselves. I ask them to understand and admit their flaws. I encourage them to go to rehab, to go to therapy, give back by creating awareness of how those bad deeds have hurt them and sometimes others. I explain to them how taking responsibility for those actions will not only help them, but help others. You know why? _If you can't be honest with your fans and your business partners, your music is tainted! Sooner or later, you have no career!_ So if they need to get sober or mentally healthy, I go to the fucking wall for them. If a tour is gonna put my client's health at risk, I _cancel_ it. That's why you never see my people disappear from the scene or from my roster."

Kovac got up from the table. "I don't know what's going on with Jim, but I can sure for shit tell you what's going on in Meat's head. You and Jim have sent him the message countless times over the years that he needs you more than you need him, and now you have the balls to act surprised that he might get cold feet while Jim's perfectly fine to go AWOL. He's divorced his wife, his oldest daughter is dating a guy pretty seriously that she might marry, and then there's the show. He has a lot on his plate, and he doesn't need resurfacing abandonment issues on top of that. We are committed to this concert; I'll make sure he gets through it the best that I can. But have you forgotten what led to 16 years of separation in the fucking first place?! Frankly, I _hope_ he punks out. Maybe it'd teach Jim a damn lesson about treating his friends with respect."

* * * * * * * *

"Hello?"  
"Barry, it's David Ives. I've got Kunze with me."  
"David! Michael! Hi! What's up?"  
"We just thought we'd call and compare notes about what we've seen in rehearsal so far. You're doing a great job!"  
"Well, thanks..."  
"But we were kind of hoping Jim would show up by now. What's the deal with him?"  
A deep sigh. "Haven't heard from him since the Courtney meeting. The minute I know, you'll know."  
Hesitation, then: "Alright, I know how these rock stars can be. Let me hand the phone to Michael."  
"Herr Keating, I must commend you on your casting of Mandy. She is really amazing. Especially with a voice like hers... star quality."  
"In spades, I agree! She's too good to be standing by for supporting in _Aida_ , I hope we can keep her for the show."  
"But Max needs work. I'm still not convinced that he is the Alfred we need. If we're making him more timid, like in Vienna and Stuttgart, then he doesn't fit. He's belting out 'For Sarah' with too much passion and bravado. We need more of a sense of his fighting his fears. The lyric tells the story. Work with him on motivation."  
"You've got it. Frankly, his casting was a matter of convenience. We were short on prospects and time, he knew the part well enough from the reading and the workshop. I'll work with him, but we'll be casting again for Broadway; we could always find someone better if we have to."  
"Patti and Pearl are handling Rebecca and Magda surprisingly well. I think making 'Tot zu sein' a duet was ultimately a good idea, they play well off each other."  
"Can you put David back on the phone? I need to ask him about a guest."  
"Hi Barry. I think I know who you mean. Are you talking about john Rando?"  
"Yes, the Tony winner for _Urinetown_. You've worked with him a lot, right?"  
"I have. He does a lot of the Encores! stuff, and he's done a few of my one-acts as well."  
"I think he'd be the right fit for a show with this kind of humor. Have you invited him?"  
"Absolutely. He'll be there with bells on."  
"Brilliant! Now let's go out and wow these schmucks so they have to agree to work with us!"


	13. Excerpts From a Column About a Concert (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, the show must go on, as it always does, and an unlikely but intrepid reporter covering the Broadway scene was there to witness the immediate aftermath. The fall-out follows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Between Ninth and Tenth Avenues in Hell's Kitchen lies a former Con Ed plant that was rebuilt as a recording studio in the late Seventies by a guy named Tony Bongiovi, whose relative later became much more famous when he changed the spelling of his last name, and his partner Bob Walters. Thanks to its new owner Avatar Entertainment Corporation, it had been re-branded as Avatar Studios in the mid-Nineties, but Jim Steinman would always think of it as the Power Station. He'd tracked and mixed a lot of great material here over the years, going back to the early Eighties and _Bad for Good_ ; indeed, he often spent so much time recording there that you could find his name listed with the studio's telephone number in the White Pages. Well, he was back again, and now it was time to cut some demos for the next project. Studio A was a little extravagant for just a demo, but it wasn't the most famous recording space in New York City for nothing, and extravagance had never been a barrier for the self-proclaimed Lord of Excess.

For what project? Somehow, he'd been talked into scoring _Garbo: The Musical_ , a show about the life of the great Swedish-American actress Greta Garbo which would premiere in Stockholm, where it was hoped there'd be a wide audience for Sweden's most famous export. Warner Brown was doing the book and lyrics, and Jim had managed to convince the producer, Mikael Hellqvist, to bring in Michael Reed, with whom he'd already worked on  _Whistle Down the Wind_ and  _Tanz_ , to do the arrangements. (If he got stuck for ideas, he wagered, Michael could always fill in the gaps or use what Jim had already written and stretch it over a full-length show.)

The director, Scott Faris, had been breathing down his neck for some time about the songs. Everything else had slid into in place while he'd procrastinated as usual -- a favorable deal had been worked out with the Garbo estate, they'd selected a theater, a hot new star from the recent smash revival of _Chess_ was possibly in the picture to play the title role, there were prospects for the show in Berlin, London, and NY if things went well in Stockholm -- and now everybody was waiting for Jim to come up with the goods. He'd had to play hooky from his main job, namely Meat Loaf and _Dance of the Vampires_ , to squeeze out some material if he could, and luckily he'd managed a handful of the songs they wanted. They asked for "Celine Dion material"; doubtless they were hoping to pursue her for the part once it hit English-speaking shores. _He_ hoped he'd fulfilled their request with what he turned out.

Jim glanced at the chords he'd scrawled on a print-out of lyrics. Kind of a depressing song now that he looked at it, but it suited that moment in the story. He nodded to the engineer reminiscent of Lurch from  _The Addams Family_ , a long-time lackey, in the control room. "Roll tape, Rink!" Steve Rinkoff gave the thumbs up that he had commenced recording. Jim began to play the Yamaha piano in front of him, and to sing with... approximate pitch:

" _Nothing_  
_What I'm thinking's nothing_  
_How I got to this point, I don't know_  
_An empty virgin sheet of paper_  
_And the writing won't be mine to show_

_Nothing_  
_Me, I feel like nothing_  
_All my own emotions fly away_  
_So watch me, watch me very closely_  
_All you'll see is nothing, clear as day_

_Where did I go?_  
_Please, if you know_  
_Tell me and I'll try_  
_I'll try to find the me I left behind_  
_To die_

_Nothing_  
_Absolutely nothing_  
_All that is within my mind or heart_  
_So watch me, watch me very closely_  
_As I play my one defining part_

_Nothing_  
_I'm revealing nothing_  
_But there is a reason_  
_You will see_

_Nothing_  
_All I'm left with is nothing_  
_It's all very simple_  
_Nothing's me_ "

He waited quietly for Rink to indicate he'd finished recording, and then asked, "Good enough?" Rink replied from the control room: "Well, aside from the fact that these lyrics are repetitive as shit and  _dreary_ , they kinda _suck_. But that's not _your_  issue, that's a problem for the translator to deal with. As a whole, it should be good enough to pass muster for these people." Jim smiled with relief. "Fantastic. What do we do next?"

"Well, before we do anything else, I should probably mention that fearless leader called." "David?" "Yeah, he says to pick up a copy of the  _Beverly Hills Courier_. Before you ask me where the hell I can find that in New York, he's sent over a copy. Apparently it's urgent?" "What could be so urgent about some newspaper?" "They covered the concert last night, and he's... concerned."

Jim cursed inwardly. _FUCK! I knew I was forgetting something. Son of a **bitch**. Shit, shit, shit! _This was why he hated to do so many projects at once; focusing on one would always give him tunnel vision where another was concerned. He'd been so busy locking himself away to write stuff for  _Garbo_ and crank out the demos that he didn't get a chance to look in on  _Vampires_. He hoped David and everyone else had been sufficiently running interference; all he needed right now was another fit from Meat Loaf if he thought Jim splitting his focus meant he was losing confidence in the show. "Alright, call Charles. Tell him I want him to bring a Benson and Hash B-52 Bomber. I might need one after this shit." (He'd been introduced to the B-52 in his younger days by a Hell's Angel who'd learned the craft when he and his crew crashed at Apple Records in London: empty the contents of one Benson & Hedges cigarette into a three-square cigarette paper, sprinkle it generously with hashish, add a cardboard tip, roll it up, and take a puff.)

While Rink went off in search of cell phone service, Jim meandered into the control room and glanced at the  _Beverly Hills Courier_. It announced a new guest column from... no way... Joan Rivers? It would be called "I Went to a Marvelous Party" (Jim smirked at the Noël Coward reference), and would cover the New York theater scene. To inaugurate her inches of ink, she'd attended the  _Vampires_ launch. Okay, theater critics are harsh enough, but theater critics with a background in stand-up, and insult comedy to boot, didn't sound very promising. _...well, I could be bitchier than Joan on a good day, how bad could it be?_

He sighed and then began to read:

" _As you all know, Broadway is looking more like Universal Studios than the epicenter of great theater these days. Mainstream brands are squeezing out scintillating art that once dominated the boards. The unfortunate shift to schlock comes as Hollywood, the media, publishers and just about anybody with something to sell are aggressively courting Middle Americans, clamoring to coddle simpletons hell-bent on seeing familiar names and titles for a 'great night out,' but, like a husband trying to make up for a forgotten anniversary with an Edible Arrangement, the apology is worse than the original oversight. That was more than clear last night at the 499-seat Little Shubert Theatre about half a mile west of Broadway (events like this cause me rightfully to wonder why it doesn't see more use), where the pathetic met the fabulous at the launch of a by-invitation-only 'concert workshop' (confusing wording, to be sure) for the new rock musical **Dance of the Vampires**._

_If you've heard the buzz on the Rialto of late, you'd be forgiven for wondering if you were having a particularly nasty acid flashback. Vampires, a new $15 million musical of the macabre based on the 1967 Roman Polanski movie **The Fearless Vampire Killers** , has been in the works longer than the Second Coming, and besieged by production troubles left and right, to the point it seemed unlikely to ever get off the ground. Well, for what it's worth, the show finally appears to be gathering steam here in the States as well, with some... we'll call it unlikely... star power attached, onstage and in the audience. Celebrities like Celine Dion, Steven Tyler, Pink, Bette Midler, Bono, Mary J. Blige, Debbie Harry (and the other fellas from Blondie whose names escape me like my youth -- until the next surgery anyway), Joe Walsh and Don Henley (winging it without the rest of The Eagles), and Stevie Nicks rubbed shoulders with the bad boys from Motley Crue, snooze rockers Yes, and some pretty-boy nobodies from the talent roster of Allen Kovac's new management firm, 10th Street Entertainment. Their presence seemed to be warranted only by the appearance of another Kovac client, Meat Loaf, in the show itself, co-headlining with Michael Crawford ( **The Phantom of the Opera** )._

_Admittedly, Meat Loaf's involvement isn't very surprising, as it's well known that **Vampires**  is the work of his frequent collaborator Jim Steinman, who was billed as writing book, music, and lyrics, and also as co-director of this event. Though David Ives (whose **All in the Timing** I enjoyed) and Grammy-winning songwriter Michael Kunze (anyone else remember 'Fly, Robin, Fly'?) were also credited, the latter in part for the original German script, this is clearly his baby. Consequently I was surprised that Steinman didn't put in an appearance at last night's show; **Starmites** composer Barry Keating, who shared directing responsibilities, told me that it's traditionally bad luck for a composer to attend opening night. I've never heard of this tradition, but I can't imagine it could have gone any worse with him present._

_Curtain time was delayed by 20 minutes (rumor has it because Loaf was waiting for Steinman to show, and only went on when it became clear he wasn't coming). During that time, rather than elaborate sets and lavish costumes, Broadway's glitterati were treated to rock and roll's version of a spectacle. Courtney Love, Hole rocker and widow of Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain, stormed the stage in a shambolic state to inform the audience that she had underwritten the evening, demanding to know why she'd had to sneak in and wasn't on the guest list. You could sum it up in two words: too drunk. (Or worse.) She was literally falling over. She wasn't coherent at all -- aside from some apparent pot-shots at Ms. Nicks, asking her quite graphically if she'd hooked up with Fleetwood Mac band-mate Lindsey Buckingham again on the last tour, but otherwise managing to deliver nothing of importance. It just became a little too sloppy, and she was removed. Steinman's manager, David Sonenberg, who is also one of the show's producers (and a first-timer at that), later explained he was worried that those involved would be seen as taking advantage of a troubled addict. Ms. Love's 'performance' did little to dispel this perception. Lucky that representatives from noted L.A.-based promoter Concerts West, major music manager Irving Azoff (who numbers The Eagles, REO Speedwagon, Journey, Christina Aguilera, and Sammy Hagar among his clients), film and music mogul Jerry Weintraub, and Broadway's own Barry and Fran Weissler were in attendance; a cash infusion from such sources may well be needed to save face if she can't 'live through this,' to twist a phrase from her 1994 album of the same name, to keep paying the show's bills._

_Speaking of paying the show's bills, in addition to Sonenberg, already attached to **Vampires** on the producing side are Andrew Braunsberg (another first-timer, who also produced Polanski's 1971 film version of **Macbeth** ), Leonard Soloway, Bob Boyett ( **Sweet Smell of Success** , **Topdog/Underdog** ), Lawrence Horowitz ( **Electra** , **It Ain't Nothing But the Blues** ), and Barry Diller and Bill Haber's USA Ostar Theatricals. Boyett, a TV producer turned legit entrepreneur, used the phrases 'trial by fire' and 'going to war,' perhaps because while some novice producers just put up the money, get the credit and run, Boyett says he's been taking the process very seriously. While some Hollywood types find Broadway 'less cutthroat,' Boyett finds it 'more restrictive.' He mentions the sheer physical space of the theaters but also all the rules and regulations: 'I've dealt with unions all my life, but I do find Actors' Equity is very restrictive to the creative process.' Further, he regrets that **Vampires** will not have an out-of-town tryout. 'I loved the experience of taking **Sweet Smell of Success** to Chicago,' he says with real enthusiasm, as if the project ended happily. 'It was helpful to have the critics say what they did.' Not that Boyett thinks the right message from the critics got to the creative team._

_As for Boyett's teammates, Bill Haber attended on behalf of USA Ostar, and although he wouldn't consent to a formal interview, he couldn't resist answering one question -- and it has nothing to do with **Dance of the Vampires**. Why is Haber's other fall production, **Imaginary Friends** by Nora Ephron, being called a play if it has six songs by Marvin Hamlisch and Craig Carnelia? 'It has nothing to do with how many songs there are,' he shot back. 'It has to do with the fact that if you took all the songs out, it still works and you still have a play.'_

_When it finally kicked off, the show itself was decent enough. **Vampires** is your typical erotic musical about an innocent girl (played this evening by impressive newcomer Mandy Gonzalez, currently standing by for the role of Amneris in **Aida** and late of Off-Broadway's **Eli's Comin'** ) choosing between two lovers, in this case an older, aristocratic vampire (Loaf, whose appearance here marks the first time he has worked with Steinman in theater since the early Seventies) and a hunky young grad student (Max von Essen) under the tutelage of a rather intensely wacky vampire hunter (Crawford). The rest of the cast, boasting some fine voices indeed, was filled out by assorted Broadway names and members of Meat Loaf's long-time touring band, The Neverland Express, which also provided accompaniment for the evening under the crisp musical direction of veteran rock bassist Kasim Sulton (best known for his work with Todd Rundgren and Utopia, among others)._

_The score, as per Steinman's usual style, is big and Wagnerian, and one familiar tune sticks out like a sore thumb: his infamous 'Total Eclipse of the Heart,' under whose pretensions my daughter Melissa swooned as a teenager. Personally, I always felt it sounded like an opera company performing **The Ring Cycle**  without the funny hats while they bludgeoned you with copies of Anne Rice novels. Close listening to the CD sampler for interested investors also reveals a rehash of the vigorous 'Tonight Is What It Means to Be Young,' his song for the 1984 film **Streets of Fire** , which I saw in Los Angeles and made me fear for the future of Mulholland Drive if any speed racers caught the flick as well. A friend whose name I can't recall told me this would be my kind of score; obviously, whoever did that wasn't a good friend. What ever happened to beguiling (what did they used to call it?) melody and some expert (the Andrews Sisters used to do it) harmony? 50's rock 'n' roll with a 70's preen isn't what Broadway's audience wants to hear; this rock-mock-Wagnerian shtick would play better in London and Las Vegas than in Manhattan._

_It worked for the rocker crowd, though; as Debbie Harry put it to me when we shared a cocktail after the show, 'In a world where the musical theater establishment pronounces old ABBA records a hip pop sound, we need someone like Jim to rejuvenate, or just plain juvenate, the Broadway musical.' Some of the theatrical persuasion were also entranced. Said John Rando, **Urinetown'** s Tony-winning helmer, 'It takes the vampire myth and pokes fun at it, but it also embraces it. Its message is about the excesses of appetite. It has wit and an edge to it. I'd love to be involved!' (The rest of the producers were tight-lipped about that last bit; early reports that Steinman would be co-directing the eventual Broadway run with **Jane Eyre** creator John Caird have ultimately been dismissed, and the status of a director for the show in New York is still up in the air. Small wonder, if you ask me.)_

_The book, while reportedly in better shape than the reading last April, is similarly at sea. From the excerpts on display last night, the dialogue and action need work. As per David Ives, 'The German production is probably more faithful to the film, but it's a fairly humorless show, with people getting hit on the head with salami. And I've been brought in to take out the salami and put in the chorus girls, without veering into camp in the process. Now it's just a question of finding the balance, which, needless to say, isn't easy. But I like what we've accomplished so far: Meat's character is vastly different, a much more multifaceted, dynamic, complete figure. We've also made other changes and cuts and restructured the show into a book musical, with dialogue; the original is all sung. I think we've made it a much more interesting story.' Frankly, that much nuance didn't catch my attention._

_The real show was at the after-party at Tavern on the Green. This was one of the biggest and most colorful parties in Broadway history, as only rock could deliver. They came in tails, jeans, bra-less, in chic gowns, barefoot, even topless. Meat Loaf, who (while singing with conviction earlier) had seemed hazy, like nothing was registering, came alive after about sixteen margaritas (no exaggeration) and a cigar or two. He hopped on an improvised stage with the rock royalty, who were already jamming, and belted out a loose rendition of Bon Jovi's 'Livin' on a Prayer.' Though he didn't really know the words, he did whatever he did and owned it with such charisma, it didn't matter what he sang or how he sang it. The crowd went nuts. So-so covers of what a fellow attendee told me was a Whitesnake song and 'Life in the Fast Lane' followed, but the worm turned quickly. After fumbling with microphone trouble which a fellow musician tried to correct, Loaf turned on him and the assemblage and ordered them off the stage and out of the party, asking who they thought they were, and threatening to punch one guy's teeth down his throat. The ensuing fracas led to a whopping $25,000 in damage to instruments and the restaurant._

_Time, as always, will be the arbiter of fate, but I'll give it this: the whole mess made me nostalgic for class, and for a show-tune I could hum like 'Some Enchanted Evening.'_ "

Jim threw the paper at the window with a shake of his head.  _Goddammit, David will have my ass for this._

_**To Be Continued** _


End file.
